Questionable Choices
by JOSTAN
Summary: Some decisions cannot be taken back.
1. Chapter 1

"FASTER! WE HAVE TO GET THERE! OH GOD, I CAN'T STOP THE BLEEDING….."

Call it a hunch. When Sergeant MacDonald got the phone call from the warden at Chino, he knew what it was about before the man told him. There was a fire that morning, inmates evacuated, transferred, confusion and in it all Tony Johnson, ex-LAPD officer, escaped. Captain Moore had asked to be notified when Johnson was released, but this was bad. Tony had been having cryptic messages sent to Pete Malloy for a few months, but Pete wasn't that concerned because Tony wasn't due to be released for a year and a half. Unless Tony had changed his mind, he was apparently going to be looking for revenge on Pete and his partner Jim Reed. It was typical criminal minded logic; his conviction was their fault for not backing up his story. Tony made it clear that he felt that Pete betrayed someone who had saved his life. Mac thanked the warden, hung up and instantly called Pete's apartment. No answer. He next tried Jim's house hoping to catch Jim and Pete before they took Jimmy fishing. He didn't get an answer at Reed's house either. Alarm bells went off in his head and Mac, against reason, ran to the black and white station wagon and drove to Reed's house.

Mac managed to resist the urge to turn on the reds, but he did push the speed as high as he dared go. It wasn't rational, but he knew he had to get there as quickly as possible. His fear shot up like a rocket when he pulled onto Jim's street and saw both Jim and Pete's cars in front of the house. Mac barely managed to not hit Pete's car when he pulled in behind it. Grabbing the mic, he started to put in a Code 1, Officer needs assistance, but stopped. He had no proof that anything was wrong and you can't set the division on high alert on a sinking feeling in your gut. Halfway up the driveway, Mac heard Jean scream.

He ran through the open garage into the back yard. Jean was on the patio clutching Jimmy to her chest and Jim was kneeling on the ground next to a sprawled out Pete. Jim yelled for Jean to call for an ambulance and, using two hands, began putting pressure on Pete's shoulder. As he got closer, Mac could see the blood on Pete's shirt, arm and thigh. MacDonald got down on one knee by his friend.

"Help me Mac. He's been shot." Jean ran over to the three men and handed Jim a towel he could use to try and stop the bleeding. Jim took his hand away and Mac saw blood spurting from a gunshot wound in Pete's shoulder. Blood shot up with a regular rhythm, echoing Pete's heartbeat. An arterial bleed; Mac had heard about them, but had never seen one. The one thing he knew about them was that the injured person would most likely die from blood loss without immediate treatment. Applying pressure wasn't good enough.

"How long till the ambulance gets here?" Jean was pale and shaking, obvious signs of shock, but she did respond to his question. Her answer of "ten minutes" seemed like an eternity to Mac. It was definitely too long for Pete to wait. "Jim. We need to take him in the black and white. Help me get him to the car."

"We can't Mac….gotta stop the bleeding." Jim kept up the pressure on the wound, to the point of swatting Mac's hand when he tried to get Jim to stop. "Put pressure on his leg. Help me Mac!"

In the distance, Mac heard a rapidly approaching siren; a black and white sent to answer the ambulance call. Reinforcements he would need to get Jim to let Pete be put into the station wagon.

"Hold on Pete…please Partner…don't you dare die on me….wake up…come on…" Jim was beyond rational thought as he pleaded with his unconscious friend, tears running down his cheeks. With the help of two officers from Foothill, Mac forced Jim away from Pete. The towel he had been using to try and staunch the blood was soaked; a symbol of the urgent need to get Pete to the hospital. Jim ran behind the three men, all the while, screaming for them to stop. As the two Foothill officers were loading Pete onto the back seat of the wagon, Mac grabbed Jim and forced him to sit in the back seat.

They were now speeding to Central Receiving with full lights and siren. Mac had put in the code 1, informing dispatch that he was transporting a wounded officer. He also requested dispatch to warn the hospital that he was bringing in an arterial bleeding case. MacDonald clung to proper procedures and routine; it was the only way he could function and the only way to help Pete.

"Please God, don't let him die….it's going to be okay Pete…come on…wake up…hold on…we're almost there." Jim sat in the back seat, cradling the head of his best friend. He held a towel on Pete's shoulder as he kept urging his unresponsive partner to live. "Dammit Pete…why'd you do it?"


	2. Chapter 2

"No bagpipes…"

Jim Reed was barely keeping himself upright as he watched the hospital orderlies pull his best friend off the backseat of Mac's station wagon. Like Jim, Pete was covered in blood, but there was a massive difference between the two men; the blood belonged only to one of them. Everyone was racing to get Pete into the emergency room before he bled out. Jim prayed that the rush meant that Pete still had a chance. A comforting hand came to rest on Jim's shoulder accompanied by whisper for him to "come on".

"No bagpipes, Mac…no bagpipes." Jim was pale, sweating, and unsteady on his feet. Mac recognized the signs of shock; he was fighting them himself, but he didn't have the luxury of giving in to it. There were phone calls to make, medical decisions to be made and he had an obligation to take care of Pete's partner. Part of him fought against the knowledge that Pete didn't have much of a chance.

"I don't understand Jim. What do bagpipes have to do with Johnson?" Jim hadn't been able to provide much information about the shooting yet, but he did say that Tony Johnson was the one who shot Pete.

"I said, don't die" Mac grabbed Jim by the arm, pulling him towards the ER entrance. "Pete said he wasn't planning on it but … that if he did…I needed to remember that his last words were 'no bagpipes'."

Despite his worry over Pete, Mac had to chuckle; it was so like Pete to make a joke about dying when he was facing… No! MacDonald realized that he was already thinking of Pete as being dead and that caused him to swallow in order to keep from throwing up. He would not give up on his friend, but how many times was he supposed to expect Pete to survive severe injuries? How many times had he sat in a waiting room sweating out word about Pete; four no, five?

The two of them followed the gurney into the Emergency Room, but were stopped short of the exam room where Pete was taken. Nurses and doctors raced into the room, pushing the two policemen out of their way. Mac, who needed to keep a hand on Jim's arm to keep him from falling, looked towards one of the nurses for help. Jim was getting worse; his eyes were taking on a glassy quality. "Why did he do it, Mac? Why?"

"Bring him in here. I'll get one of the other doctors to check on him." As he led Jim into the exam room, Mac was comforted by the fact that nurses were racing in and out of Pete's room. It meant that he was still alive. A young resident followed Mac and Jim into the exam room. "Why'd he do it, Mac?" Jim kept repeating the question, which was reason enough for the doctor to order a mild sedative. Mac was reluctant to allow Jim to be sedated, but he needed answers and Jim was in no condition to give them. It struck Mac as an odd reaction; when Pete was shot during the drug raid, Jim was upset, but not this shaken. What had happened in that backyard? He watched as the nurse gave Jim an injection.

"Tony did it because he blamed Pete for his having to go to prison. You know that." Mac had phone calls to make, but he felt an obligation to keep an eye on Jim; Pete would be mad if he didn't. Jim was calming down, but he still seemed detached. "Pete. Why did Pete do it, Mac?"

"I don't understand Jim. What do you mean?" He got a mumbled answer and then silence from Reed.

After she gave Jim the sedative, the nurse left and came back to help Jim into a pair of scrubs, removing his blood soaked clothes. Mac took the opportunity to call Captain Moore to tell him about the shooting and give him what little information Jim had been able to provide them with. In addition, he called Mary, his wife to let her know what had happened; Pete was family. Mac called Jim's house to check in, but made no attempt to find the number for Pete's parents. He knew Pete wouldn't want them notified yet.

xxxxx

Back at the Reed residence, all hell was breaking loose. Uniform officers were combing the streets and knocking on doors; searching for any sign of Johnson. Bill Walters had taken point on the operation until a detective arrived to interview Jean. They were in Foothill's territory, but district lines were bent when an officer was shot. So far, he found out that Jean hadn't seen or heard Johnson at all. Pete and Jim were supposed to have taken Jimmy fishing earlier but Jim's mother was having car trouble and needed his help that morning. Jim meant to cancel the fishing trip, but he hadn't been able to reach Pete on the phone.

"Jim was getting worried; it wasn't like Pete, he didn't answer last night or this morning." Walters quirked a brow, was she saying that Pete hadn't been home all night? "He got here after Jim left. I was going to send him away. I'm not feeling well, but Jimmy saw him and asked him to play ball so Pete offered to watch Jimmy while I took a nap." Jean stopped talking, giving herself over to the tears that were streaming down her face. Walters wrapped an arm around Jean, letting her cry on his shoulder. By the sound of it, she didn't have any information that could help them find Johnson. Woods, who looked as shaken as Walters felt, told him that Mac had called wanting to know if they found Pete's gun because it wasn't on him when they got to the hospital.

"It's in the bedroom closet." Jean sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "He locked it in the strongbox before going out back with Jimmy." When questioned further, she confirmed that Pete wasn't armed when Johnson shot him. This knowledge spread quickly among the officers at the scene, upping their desire to find Johnson as soon as possible. Shooting Pete was bad enough, but shooting him while he was unarmed and playing with a four-year-old made it all the more despicable.

By the time Captain Moore arrived an APB had already gone out on Johnson. It wouldn't be long until the news outlets were provided with the minimal information necessary to get a story about the search for Johnson on the air; a policeman shot, armed suspect wanted. For now, Pete's name wouldn't be released to the press. All over Los Angeles, the wives of policemen would be calling their husband's station hoping to be told that it wasn't their husband who was shot. Sgt. Jerry Miller arrived shortly after the Captain did; together, they introduced themselves to Jean, before questioning her.

"Is Pete d….do you know how Pete is?" Jean looked up at the two policemen. He eyes were red and swollen; tears still slipping down her face.

"We haven't heard anything yet. I'm sorry, but I need to ask you some questions." Miller was going to be handling the investigation. "I understand that your son might have seen something. Did he say anything about what happened?" Jimmy was being taken care of by a neighbor; Jean didn't want him to see what was going on in the backyard.

"He's only four and he's scared. I was sleeping when I heard the shots and then Jimmy was running through the house yelling for me." Her hands were shaking as she took a glass of water from Walters and drank some. "He said that a bad man hurt him and Uncle Pete."

"I see. Did he say anything else?" While Miller was taking down notes, his mind was already going to the question of how it was that Johnson got his hands on the boy. Surely Pete was watching him closely.

"Jim yelled for me and when I got to the backyard, he sent me to call for an ambulance. I held Jimmy tight so that he couldn't see Pete lying on the ground." She had been holding the glass in two hands, close to her chest, but dropped it when she tried to put the glass on the end table. "Mable from next door came over when she heard the noises. She took Jimmy."

"How many shots did you hear?" It didn't make sense that Johnson would shoot only Pete if both partners were there. Could he have missed Jim? Miller made a notation to ask Jim if he and Johnson exchanged fire. "Did all the shots sound the same?"

"I don't remember Sergeant. There were at least four shots." She paused to thank Walters for cleaning up the water she had spilled. "They were fast, but they sounded the same. Can I go see my son please? I need to get to the hospital soon."

xxxxx

Mac hung up the phone and immediately walked into Sally. He recognized her from the shooting at the liquor store and wondered about her relationship to Pete. "Oh, excuse me Mac, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there. It happens when I get a call to hurry back here. There is an emergency of some sort."

"It's Pete. He's the emergency." Mac didn't want her to rush into that exam room without knowing who the patient was. Sally was already moving away when she spun around at Mac's comment. "Pete? Are you sure?" She knew it was a stupid question, but it came out anyway. "What happened?

"He was shot." It was a blunt way to say it, but he'd learned a long time ago that sugar coating things didn't help. They only delayed understanding. "It's bad. They took him in there." Sally sent two other nurses into the exam room to cover for her. There was no way that she could keep her own emotions in check; she and Pete have been getting very close. While they waited for word on Pete's condition, Mac filled Sally in on what little they knew. A man wearing bloody scrubs came out of the exam room and, after a slight hesitation, headed for Mac and Sally. Mac held his breath as he shook hands with the doctor.

"I assume you are here about the multiple GSW in room 3." Mac flinched, hearing Pete described solely by the type of injury he had, but confirmed that he was Pete's supervisor. "Am I to understand that man is a police officer? I wasn't informed of that. Sally, are you involved in this?" At Mac's request the three of them retired to Jim's room in order to let him in on the briefing. Jim seemed calmer and more lucid.

"Officer Malloy is in critical condition. He was in shock when he was brought in. I'm sure you realize that he has lost a lot of blood. The warning from your dispatcher allowed us to be ready for him. One of the bullets did severe the main artery to his left arm. We have placed clamps on the artery to prevent what bleeding we can. He also had a bullet pass through the bicep on that arm." He paused to see if there were any questions and then continued when the trio stayed silent; Mac and Jim weren't sure what to ask and Sally knew what that meant. "The wound in his right thigh still has a bullet in it as does his abdomen."

"Wait, how many times was he shot?" Mac had barely noticed anything except the blood spurting shoulder. Jim tried to answer Mac's question, saying that Pete was shot three times. The doctor shook his head.

"He was shot five times: His left shoulder and arm, his right leg and twice in the abdomen, all at fairly close range. We are giving him transfusions to try and stable him enough for surgery, but there is a serious problem. We need a family member or someone authorized to approve medical care to make a decision." MacDonald confirmed that he was authorized to make those types of decisions for Pete as his parents weren't local.

"In his current state, Officer Malloy is still not stable. We normally give the patient blood transfusions and wait until they are stable before operating. In putting the clamps on his artery, we cut off the blood flow to his arm. If we don't return blood flow soon, there is a serious chance that he could lose part or all function in that arm. If we want to save it, we need to operate sooner than later."

"We have to choose between his arm and his life?" Jim might be a little calmer than usual, but he did grasp the problem. Jim, Mac and Sally discussed it, but they all knew Pete well enough to be positive which option he would choose. It was Mac's decision.

"Save the arm, Doctor."

They were a quiet trio; each one considering the weight of the choice they made. Would any of them prefer a dead friend over a disabled one? Certainly not, yet that could very well be the result of their decsion. Knowing that operating sooner would have been Pete's choice, didn't make the waiting any easier. Did they make the right choice? Was the use of an arm worth a life? Isn't that what they said by making the choice to save the arm? They were gambling with Pete's life and none of them were sure they made the right choice.

xxxxx

In an abandoned house twenty-two blocks away, Tony Johnson was pacing the living room. He was ranting, talking to the ex-con who drove him away from Reed's neighborhood. Both had heard a news report about the shooting.

"Damn Malloy! It's just like him to do that. I was so surprised that I kept firing at him until the gun was empty. Now Reed is alive and knows who shot Pete. I should have killed Malloy right away, but I wanted him to see me kill Reed first." Tony kicked the guy to get his attention. "You're in trouble too, you know. You gave me the gun. If they find me, they find you. What are we going to do?"

"What do you mean 'we'? You're on your own." The ex-con, a guy named Carson got up from his perch on the floor. "Sending him notes and helping you get away was one thing. Me going cop hunting wasn't part of the deal." Grabbing a duffle bag, he started for the door. Tony grabbed the shorter man by the shirt collar, slamming him into the wall.

"You are going to help me make sure both of them are dead or I'll kill you." Tony tightened his grip until he was choking the smaller man, who struggled to get free. He was getting dizzy and his vision was going when he nodded and Tony let him go.

"I ain't gonna go after the cop in the hospital. Sounds like he's going to die without me, but I'll help you get the other one."

Tony smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Jerry Miller had a problem. The only available witness to what happened in the Reed's backyard before Jim Reed arrived and Pete Malloy was shot was a frightened four-year-old. James A. Reed Jr. was currently sitting on his mother's lap clutching a beloved floppy stuffed dog. No one wanted to question Jimmy but they needed to know the facts and from reports, Pete wasn't going to be able to provide them any time soon.

"Do you really have to do this? He's so scared. Can't it wait until Pete ca…." Jean broke off her question once she saw the look in Miller's eyes; they didn't expect Pete to be able to talk, ever.

"I'll be a quick and gentle as I can, Mrs. Reed." Miller had kids of his own and understood how to talk to them. "Jimmy? I'd like you to tell me about being out back. What were you and "Uncle Pete" doing before the bad man came?"

"Kick the ball. Uncle Pete teach me." The little boy held tight to his stuffed toy. "I kick big." Miller smiled, Jimmy's stare seemed to dare Miller to say he didn't kick big. Jerry, who had spent some time in the back yard, played a feeling he had. "Did you kick the ball far? Like across the yard?"

"Uh huh. Uncle Pete tole me 'good boy;" It was obvious that the boy loved his Godfather; he spoke with the intense trust and pride of a child.

"Jimmy. Really think, did you kick the ball by the gate?" After looking around the back yard, and knowing how protective Pete is of the boy, the only possible way for Johnson to get close was for him to have been hiding by the backyard gate. At the question, Jimmy turned to hide his face in his mother's shoulder; the sound of soft crying could be heard.

"Jimmy, Honey, did you kick the ball by the gate and go get it? Tell Mommy, I won't be mad." Jean, too, had been wondering how Pete let Johnson get to Jimmy; Miller's hunch was the only logical conclusion. "Jimmy, did you go by the gate?" Still burying his face, Jimmy nodded. "Bad man."

"Is that how the bad man got you? He came in the gate?" Jimmy looked up and nodded. The gate in the back yard swings into the yard and locks from the outside; probably as a way to keep Jimmy from using a stick to unlatch the hook. All Johnson had to do was unhook the lock and wait for Jimmy to get close enough to grab him. It wasn't as if Pete was expecting anything dangerous; he didn't know that Johnson had escaped from prison.

"Did he hold you when he was talking to Uncle Pete?" Miller rubbed his hand over the top of Jimmy's head after he confirmed that Johnson grabbed him through the gate and held him tight.

"Okay son, how did you get away from the bad man?" By this time, Miller was pretty sure what happened before Jim got there. He could get the answer to this from Jim, but he needed to know now.

"Daddy took me from the bad man." That confirmed Miller's suspicions as to what happened in that back yard.

"Thank you, Jimmy. You were a big help.

Miller thanked Jean before heading into the kitchen; Captain Moore hung up the phone. "That was Mac calling from the hospital. Pete's not doing so well. Johnson shot him five times." The normally steady captain slammed a fist down on the counter. "What kind of person shoots someone who used to be a friend five times?"

"The same kind that uses a four-year-old boy as a shield." Miller was disgusted; he had known Johnson too, but he had no idea that he was capable of attacking a child. "From what Reed's son said, Johnson was hiding by the gate and grabbed him when the boy got close to it. There is no way Pete could have prevented it. Jimmy also said that Johnson was holding him while he talked to Pete." Miller didn't have to say it; they both knew that Pete would be willing to do anything to protect his Godson. "We know from Jean and Jimmy that Reed got his son away from Johnson." Captain Moore finished the thought.

"This means that Pete must have done something to distract Johnson long enough for Jim to get his son away. We know he didn't have his weapon to threaten Johnson with." The enormity of what had happened was dawning on Moore. "Whatever Pete did, he had to know that Johnson would shoot him." As he spoke, Moore realized that Pete chose Jimmy's safety over his own life. "He made a hell of a choice."

xxxxx

There were questions to be answered but Mac had been told to wait for Sgt. Miller to arrive before any questions were asked of Jim. During the short time between Pete being prepped for surgery and his being taken up to the OR, Sally and Jim were allowed into exam room three to see him. Sally held onto Jim's arm; she was used to seeing injured people, but not someone she cared a lot about and she cared more about Pete than anyone knew. Neither one was prepared for what they saw.

Pete was unconscious, extremely pale and cold to the touch. He had two IV lines pumping blood into his veins. He was hooked to a heart monitor and was wearing an oxygen mask. Someone had covered him with a blanket, but there was a bulge on his left shoulder where the clamps were placed on his artery. Both visitors were shaken by Pete's condition. Jim reached out first, touching Pete's right shoulder. He had something to say to his partner before it was too late.

"We chose Jimmy's Godfather well. I'll never forget what you did for my son today." Jim's hand was trembling as he tried to say goodbye just in case. "Don't you dare die on us; Jimmy needs you. Who else is going to teach him how to sneak snacks and swear?" Sally stepped back to give Jim some privacy. "Thank you, my friend, for everything." Jim had a lot more he wanted to say, but time was short and Sally was waiting. Tears were welling up in her eyes as she reached up to brush the hair off Pete's forehead.

"I told you when you left this morning to be careful. Here I was worried about you getting a fishing hook in your thumb." Jim saw her tears as they fell on Pete's arm so he stepped closer, resting a supporting hand on her shoulder. "It's not fair Pete. We're finally making it work. You can't die. Do you hear me Mister?" As the orderlies came back into the room, Sally leaned down to whisper something in Pete's ear. She kissed him then turned to Jim and cried on his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

The investigation into the shooting of Pete Malloy had one advantage; it was an early Saturday afternoon. Multiple neighbors reported seeing Tony Johnson running away from the scene. One older woman recalled seeing him lingering outside the gate. She had assumed that he was playing a game with Jimmy and the man inside the yard. It wasn't until she heard shots that she called the police. Those who saw Johnson running remembered seeing him getting into a bright yellow Ford Pinto with damage on the front end and a Nixon bumper sticker on the back. Two men, who were outside mowing their lawns, gave a good description of the driver; people tend to notice strangers sitting in unfamiliar cars. The man was described as a white male with curly light brown hair and a scar on the left side of his jaw. A pair of detectives was sent to look into any known associates of Tony, particularly those he met in prison. In addition, a description of the car and driver was sent to all patrol cars. Off-duty officers were coming in on their own time to help those already looking for a yellow Pinto.

xxxxx

Mac was about to enter exam room three when the door opened. He had hoped to get into the room before they took Pete away. As it was, he walked alongside the stretcher; a hand resting on Pete's right shoulder. Jim and Sally followed behind. It seemed important for them to accompany Pete to the OR almost as if their presence was keeping him alive. No one spoke in the elevator, at least not out loud; prayers are mostly private thoughts between a person and God. At the door to the operating suites, the orderlies had to pause while one of them opened the double doors. It was just enough time for Mac to say something to Pete.

"Live, that's an order." Mac squeezed Pete's shoulder before stepping back.

Then Pete disappeared into the OR suite. Instead of going back to the ER waiting room, Mac steered Jim and Sally towards the OR waiting room. They had seen, not only the officers who gathered in the ER waiting room, but the growing number of reporters looking for information. Captain Moore had told Mac to find a private place for Miller to question Jim. For now, they were the only three people in the waiting room. Sally started to ask Jim what happened, but Mac stopped her apologizing for making her wait for Miller to arrive to question Jim.

"Jim, what you said before about bag pipes, does that mean that Pete doesn't want them…?

"…at his funeral, yes. He hates the sound of them." A small smile appeared on Jim as he remembered the reason why Pete hated them. "He told me once that, when he was a teenager, there was a tree right by his second floor bedroom window. Pete used it for sneaking out of the house after his parents were asleep. Well an owl, he called it Bert, started living in the tree and it would screech every time Pete tried to climb out the window. Bert sounded just like a set of bagpipes. He said he missed two weekends of parties before his parents learned to ignore the screech."

"That sounds like Pete." Mac spoke up with an assumption he came to long ago. "I don't think our friend was the 'Eagle Scout' type of teen." It felt good to laugh, even though it was short.

xxxxx

Tony Johnson was using a milk crate to sit on as he ate a cold burger and soggy fries. The house that he and Carson were staying in lacked furniture. Still, it suited their purpose. Today's shooting had been unintentional; a scouting mission to Reed's house had provided Tony with an opportunity that he couldn't resist. He watched as Pete and Jimmy came out of the house laughing, so happy. Tony snorted with disgust. It wasn't right for Malloy to be having fun while he had rotted in prison. No doubt Reed would be along soon to join in the fun. The boy's presence made things easier; if he could grab the kid, he would have leverage over both Malloy and Reed. He should have known that Malloy would do something stupid. Damn him.

"We need a plan. After what happened today, Reed isn't going to be easy to take down." While it was Pete who refused to help him earn parole, Tony was sure that Jim was in on it; those two never did anything without discussing it with each other, except that time. Pete, alone, had decided to refuse Johnson's request for help.

"Why don't we leave him alone? It was Malloy who didn't help you." Carson, an ex-cellmate of Johnson's, didn't want to kill either cop, but he believed Tony would kill him if he double-crossed him. "Let's at least wait until after Malloy's funeral. They're going to be watching Reed." Why didn't Tony see what he saw? There was no way that the police department wouldn't protect their witness.

"Knowing Malloy, he'll stay alive out of spite." Tony wadded up the wrapper from his burger and threw it across the room. It did nothing to relieve his frustration at letting Reed get away. He turned towards Carson and smiled.

"Man, I tell you, shooting Malloy felt great! You should have seen his body jerking when I shot him." It was right about then that Carson began to seriously question Tony's sanity.

"Isn't that enough? Do you have to take out Reed too?" Carson wasn't a killer at heart and Tony was scaring him. Who gets enjoyment out of shooting someone? All he wanted was to get away from Tony. "You didn't ask Reed for help. Why don't we skip town and go to Vegas. Girls, gambling, booze….sounds good to me."

"Reed saw me shoot Malloy. Do you think he's going to forget it?" Carson knew enough about cops that Reed wouldn't stop looking for Tony. If Malloy died, he would, along with Tony, have an appointment with the gas chamber. Johnson's revenge wasn't worth risking the death penalty, was it?

"I can't leave a witness alive. Not even the kid." Carson dropped the hot coffee he was drinking all over his lap. Surely Tony wasn't willing to kill the boy.

"Whoa now, you can't kill a little boy!" That was it. Tony crossed a line. Carson belatedly realized that he was also a witness. He had noticed the neighbors looking at him and the car; Tony was putting a noose around Carson's neck.

"I'll kill every witness. Got it?" Carson was looking for something in his duffle bag; he pulled out a ratty pair of jeans, holding them up for Johnson to see. Using the excuse of needing to change out of his coffee soaked jeans, Carson dodged into the back bedroom. He dropped the jeans, opened the window and ran.

xxxxx

Pete had been in surgery a little over an hour when Captain Moore and Sgt. Miller arrived at the OR waiting room. The waiting was getting to all of them. Mac was leaning against a wall, his arms crossed. He was staring at the doors to the OR. Jim was still feeling some of the effects of the sedative, but he was rational. The only outward sign of his anxiety was the constant clicking of his ball point pen. Sally was curled up in an arm chair. For her, the waiting was worse; she knew better than the others what was being done to Pete.

Moore cleared his throat to get their attention. He glanced towards Sally as he spoke. "MacDonald, Reed, perhaps we should move to a more private setting. No offense Ma'am." Sally sat up straight, intent on convincing the Captain to let her stay.

"Sally's with us Captain. She and Pete are…er.." Mac paused, not quite sure how to describe Sally's relationship with Pete. "They are together." Captain Moore nodded though he did ask her not to interfere with Miller's questioning of Reed.

"Alright Jim, what I would like you to do is to begin telling us what happened. I might stop you at points for clarification, but most of my questions will come after you finish." Miller took a seat across from Jim; his pen and paper resting on his lap.

"I had to go to my mother's this morning to help her with her car. Pete and I were supposed to take Jimmy fishing. I tried to call him to cancel but couldn't reach him at his apartment." Jim glanced at Sally, wondering if she was the reason that Pete wasn't home this morning or last night. If she was, Sally was giving nothing away, so Jim continued. "So, I wasn't that surprised when I got home and saw Pete's car. It wasn't like him to skip a chance to play with Jimmy. I was close to the house when I called out to see if they were in the backyard. That's when I heard Jimmy yell 'Daddy, help', I ran through the garage and into the back yard. The first thing I saw was Pete standing in the middle of the yard. I was looking for Jimmy when Pete nodded for me to look behind me. Johnson was about ten feet from me; he was holding Jimmy and had a gun pointed at him." Jim paused, needing to steel himself to tell the story. According to him….

"Stay right there Reed. Be a good boy or I might have to hurt this son of yours." Johnson's voice was different than Jim remembered it. There was an edge to it that made it all too clear that he would hurt Jimmy.

"Stand still Jim. Tony's here for me." He met Jim's eyes for a moment and Jim knew that Pete was working on a plan to save Jimmy. By telling him to 'stand still' Pete signaled that he wanted Jim close to Tony. "Let the boy go. Do what you want to me, but don't hurt him. He's innocent."

"So was I Malloy. You sold me down the river." That wasn't the way Jim remembered it. Pete was the one who forced Johnson to confess, but he was guilty. A slight shake of Pete's head told Jim to not contradict Tony.

"Then leave them out of it. I'll go wherever you want me to, just let Jimmy go." Unnoticed by Tony, Pete took two careful steps closer. Jim didn't move, but he had never prayed harder in his life.

"No way, Reed's part of this too. He should have stopped you from framing me." Tony had definitely lost his grip on reality. Had prison been that bad? Did that make Jimmy more at risk? Jim didn't know.

"Then let the boy go. The _three _of us can work this out by ourselves." The accent on three could only point to a countdown; Pete was setting his plan in motion. Jim's eyes shifted towards Pete, acknowledging the cue. Years of working closely enabled them to communicate ideas and plans to each other without the suspect knowing. Pete took two steps more making him roughly twenty-five feet from Johnson.

"I'm keeping him. Maybe I'll raise him on my own." Tony kept pointing the gun between the two men. Every bit of Jim wanted to lunge at Johnson; to take the chance when the gun wasn't pointing at him, but he trusted Pete and didn't move. _Please Pete, save my son._

"I'm the _one_ you want. Here I am." When Pete flicked a glance at Jim, he saw his friend close his eyes. Jim got the message he was ready; ready for what though? Pete took another two steps.

"Don't come any closer. I owe both of you this." Tony pulled the gun closer to Jimmy's side. Whatever Pete was planning better be good; it had to give him time to get Jimmy safely away.

"You have the _two_ of us. Why not let Jim take Jimmy into the house first?" Pete glanced at Jim, then to Jimmy and back to Jim. His eyes confirmed Jim's hunch; Pete was going to take on Johnson while he got Jimmy away. Pete hadn't indicated what he was going to do, but Jim assumed that Pete would drop to the ground, pull his gun and hope to hit Johnson.

"I am not letting the boy go. He's my son now." Johnson stopped pointing the gun at Jimmy; he now had Pete in his sights. It must have seemed the right time, because Pete yelled "Three" and ran at Tony like a linebacker chasing a quarterback. All of Jim's attention was on his son; he didn't see that Pete continued running at Johnson. Jim quickly covered the distance between him and Tony, grabbing Jimmy and running for the patio door. That's when he heard shots behind him. A reflection on the glass patio door showed Jim what he left behind;Pete was lying on the ground with Tony standing over him. While he rushed into the kitchen Jim heard two more shots from the yard. Johnson was actually shooting Pete after he was down. As soon as Jimmy was safe, Jim drew his gun and ran to the backyard. He saw the gate swinging, but he wouldn't chase Tony. Pete needed him.

"That's where Mac came in. I don't know why Pete didn't hit the dirt and take aim." Mac noticed Jim trembling and stepped closer to Jim, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"He wasn't armed Jim. Jean said he locked his weapon away before going out to play ball with Jimmy." Captain Moore was keeping up a professional front, but Mac knew better. He heard the catch in Moore's voice. Pete wasn't only an officer under Moore's command; he had been Moore's trainee, his friend.

"If he wasn't armed why didn't he run for cover?" Jim looked back and forth between Mac and the Captain. A little while ago, he thought the situation couldn't get any worse, until it did. "Why?"

"I don't think he wanted to take the chance that, if he ran for cover, Tony would turn the gun on you and Jimmy." It was Miller who answered Jim's question, but Moore and MacDonald nodded in agreement. "He made himself a target."

"But why, does he think I wanted him to do that?" Jim was forced to admit the reality of what had happened. Pete had let himself be shot. He leaned forward, holding his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees.

"It's simple Jim", Moore had to explain the obvious. "Your son means more to Pete than his own life. He made his choice."


	5. Chapter 5

Carson kept looking behind him; sure that Tony was following. After fifteen minutes, he decided that he wasn't being followed; he was also sure that he had no money and had left his car behind. The answer to the second problem should be easy. They had parked it around the block from the house they were staying at because Tony was sure it would be recognized by the cops. Sometimes Tony worried about the wrong things. There were thousands of yellow Pintos in Los Angeles, why would the cops notice his? Besides, he had been parked two streets over when Tony shot the cop. As long as Tony wasn't watching the car, he was fine.

Carson got into the car and reached under the passenger seat. It was still there. The forty-five caliber gun he hadn't told Tony about. Now all he needed was a convenient liquor store or gas station. He had never robbed anyplace, but how hard could it be? Teenagers do it all the time. He found an easy target; a liquor store that was close to the freeway. He could hold it up and be gone in the afternoon traffic. The only person in the store was the clerk. Carson drew his weapon; pointing it at the clerk, who cooperated fully. He opened the register and starting with the twenties, took all the money from the cash draw and handed it over. When Carson asked where the fifties were, the clerk lifted the cash tray and slowly gathered them up. Carson grabbed the bills and ran out of the store. The clerk smiled knowing that pulling the last twenty out of the cash draw had set off the silent alarm. Carson was just pulling away when he heard the sirens.

Walters and Brinkman, in X-ray 14, were doing the same thing every other cop in town was doing; looking for a yellow Pinto with a Nixon bumper sticker. They were answering the silent alarm when they almost hit the Pinto the suspect was trying to escape in. Carson pushed the gas pedal down to the floor as he tried to shake the cop car. One thing he hadn't thought about was that while Pintos were not known for being fast, cop cars were.

Once Brinkman radioed in the pursuit of a yellow Pinto every uniform and plain clothes car available set up road blocks. The chase ended when Carson slammed on the brakes and spun into one of the black and whites parked in his way. Woods, who was very annoyed that he would have to spend an hour filling out accident reports on his unit, ran to check on the driver. Carson wasn't hurt and was frisked, cuffed and placed into the back of 14. Walters radioed in that they might have found the Pinto that fled the scene of Pete's shooting.

xxxxx

It was a very hostile group of officers lining up in the hallway to watch Carson being brought in. He was part of what happened to Pete and every one of them wanted to strangle him. Their presence in the hallway unnerved him, which was the intent. Carson was ushered into an interview room where Sgt. Miller and Captain Moore were waiting for him.

"Come on in and take a seat. Do you understand the rights the arresting officers told you?" Miller's tone of voice had an edge to it; Pete was a friend of his too.

"Yeah, but I'm not going to tell you anything." Carson wasn't sure what they knew about his part in what happened in the Reed's back yard. What he did know was that Tony would kill him now that he ran off.

"It's up to you. If you don't want to talk to me, I'm sure some of those officers in the hallway would be more than willing to have a _chat _with you." Getting suspects to talk was mostly about finding a way to motivate them. Miller smiled as he delivered the implied threat; intimidation was a useful tool.

"You can't let them have me!" Carson swallowed hard and looked towards Capt. Moore as if to appeal to his sense of fair play. "I've got a right to protection, don't I?" Moore smiled at him.

"Protection, from what? Surely you don't think any of my officers would want to harm you. They're all too busy worrying about Pete." Moore was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "Wouldn't you agree Sergeant?"

"Yes, I'd say they were. Lucky for Carson here, Malloy is still alive… for now." Miller had his pen poised over a legal pad, ready to take down a statement from the ex-con. The door was closed, but the hall was filled with angry voices saying the suspect's name. Carson started to squirm in his chair.

"If I talk, Johnson will come after me." He looked between Miller, Moore and the door. The Captain shrugged and motioned to Miller to follow him out of the room. "If the man says he won't talk, what can we do? The uniforms can handle booking him." Miller spoke as he opened the door; letting Carson see the angry mob in the hallway.

"Wait a minute, wait." Sanchez and Greene had stepped closer to the open door and Greene just happened to have his nightstick handy. The wide grins both men gave Carson were perfect; they promised dire consequences if Pete died and Carson hadn't helped them.

"I gotta have your promise to protect me. Johnson is more than crazy, he's deranged." Captain Moore winked at Greene and Sanchez, and then he and Miller closed the door. Both stayed standing, glaring down at Carson, who was starting to sweat. Finally, Captain Moore spoke.

"Unless Tony Johnson has changed drastically, the man is sane. Are you trying to use a lie as an excuse for your part in the shooting of Officer Malloy and the kidnapping of James Reed Junior?" Carson looked up at a matched set of policemen; both were leaning against the wall, arms crossed over their chests.

"He was okay when he got there, but man, do you know what happens to cops on the inside?" Carson was hoping for a response, but he got nothing. "They got a target on their back. Beat up a cop and the other cons will leave you alone." Miller sat back at the table, placing his legal pad on top. "Go on."

"All of them end up dead or in solitary, unless they convince a gang leader to put them under the gang's protection. I'd rather be dead than 'protected' by a gang." Carson leaned over to see what Miller was writing, he wanted it correct. "You've got to do better than that or this is over. Explain to me what you mean."

"Aw man, do I really have to spell it out for you? Tell you what they made him do to be _safe_?" It was around this time in the interview that Carson hesitated. Johnson might want to kill him now, but he was still a friend. The silence dragged on until Carson couldn't take it anymore. "He had to _service_ the gang members."

"Are you saying that Johnson went crazy because he had to sexually service other prisoners?" Miller, who took down every word, shook his head and prayed that he never ended up in prison.

"Yeah, all he talks about is getting even with the guys who framed him. Wouldn't you?"

"Johnson wasn't framed. He did extort money from a citizen; Malloy realized that Tony was lying about being innocent and forced him to admit his crime." It was Captain Moore speaking. "You helped him shoot an innocent man. Now, where do we find him? Cooperating is your only hope now."

Carson's head fell to his chest; Johnson was sending him back to prison on a lie. He gave Miller the address of where they were staying, but said Tony might have left. He also gave them the name of a guy Tony talked about finding. Finally, they had a lead.

xxxxx

The clicking of Jim's pen increased in frequency; mirroring the growing anxiety he was feeling. The idea that Pete intentionally let himself be shot in order to protect him and his son was unsettling. It was hard enough to handle when he thought that Johnson had gotten lucky, but now, knowing what he did made Jim want to lash out at anyone and anything. His right arm swung out, knocking a potted plant and some magazines off the coffee table in front of them. He practically jumped up off his chair before heading down a hallway; he had to get out of there. Mac wasn't sure if he should follow Jim or stay with Sally, who was again curled up on a chair.

"I'll be okay Mac. You have to follow Jim, he needs you more than I do right now." Sally wiped her eyes, offering Mac a tentative smile. "I'll go see if I can find out how the operation is going. Meet me back here after you help Jim."

Mac raced to catch up to Jim. If he found the elevators, Jim could be anywhere. The hallway he was in dead-ended into another one. Mac was looking for a sign of which way Jim had gone, when he noticed a door at the end of the hallway to his right closing. The stairs were behind that door and Mac choose the set that led up towards the roof. It was an educated guess; Jim wouldn't risk taking the stairway down to the ER where he would face questions. He found Jim sitting on one of the roof's air ducts, still clicking the pen top. Jim didn't turn around even though he heard Mac's approach.

"What if he dies Mac?"

"Don't count him out yet. He's a very stubborn person; he's not about to let Tony win." Mac hoped his voice projected the hope he was having a hard time holding onto.

"What can I say to Jimmy? He loves Pete." There was a hint of anger in Jim's voice; Pete hadn't given him a chance to suggest an alternative way of dealing with Johnson.

"For now, you tell him that Uncle Pete had to go away. When he gets older, you tell him how much his Godfather loved him." Jim didn't know it, but Mac had faced the same questions long before Jim joined the force. "I know it's hard…"

Jim spun around to face MacDonald. "Do you Mac? How would you know what it feels like to have a friend maybe dying because of you?" Jim's face was red as he expressed the anger he was feeling. He couldn't believe that he was angry at Pete.

"Because he did it for me a long time ago." Mac was trying to keep his emotions in check; it wouldn't help either of them if this turned into a shouting match. "We had been partners for about a year when we responded to a bar fight. With two back-up units, we got the four men fighting in cuffs. Walters and his partner were leading the men out to the black and whites." Mac paused, taking a deep calming breath before continuing. "It was closing time. Pete and I were both facing the bar, getting information from the bartender and Brown was forcing the crowd to leave. They were passing behind us as they did." Mac sat down on the air duct next to Jim. "The next thing I knew, Pete was pushing me to the side; he saw a glint of metal in the crowd. There was a guy there that had a beef with me. He and Pete fought over the knife he was holding. I was trying to grab a hold to help Pete when the guy tripped backwards, pulling Pete down with him. I'll never forget the sound Pete made when he fell on the knife. He took a knife under the ribs for me. So, yes, I know how you feel right now." Jim did something he had never done before; he put a hand on Mac's shoulder.

"I didn't know that. Pete never said anything about it." So Mac did understand; Jim found that comforting. He wasn't alone.

"Does that surprise you?" Mac chuckled softly. "You know Pete; he's the exact opposite of Wells. I don't think I've ever heard Pete brag about anything he did on the job."

"It's annoying sometimes, isn't it?" A smile began to show on Jim's face. After all these years, there was still so much he didn't know about their mutual friend. "He's told me dumb things he's done; like the Bert story, but nothing like the story you just told me."

"It's part of his charm. That and sarcasm. Come on, we should get back." Mac had gone up there to help Jim deal with the situation, but the talk did them both a lot of good.

Sally rushed over to Mac and Jim as soon as she saw them. She was crying again. "Do you know your blood types? Pete's hanging in there, but the blood bank doesn't have any more B- , it's rare, and Pete needs it." Jim was O-, which would do in a pinch, but Mac was A+. Mac couldn't donate, but he knew where he might find some willing donors. While Sally dragged Jim off to donate, Mac went down to the ER waiting room. There he found, among the off-duty officers gathered there, two more possible donors. He also heard about Carson.


	6. Chapter 6

When Mac left the ER to return to the OR waiting room, he was followed by many of the officers who were standing vigil; waiting for word on Pete. Along the way, he also picked up Jean. She had been looking for Jim all over the hospital. At first, the head nurse on that floor objected to having so many people in the waiting area, but Mac promised her that they wouldn't disturb anyone. They were a quiet group; some were sharing funny stories about Pete, but most just sat around. Mac had spoken to the Captain about the developments in the case. He told Jim, Jean and Sally that Carson had given Miller a possible address for Tony Johnson. They were getting ready to move on the house.

"I want in on the raid Mac." Jim felt that he needed to be there; he wanted to take Tony down. He wasn't helping Pete by sitting there.

"No Jim, your place is here, waiting for word on Pete." Mac understood why Jim wanted in on the operation; he had argued with Moore about letting him be there himself. "The Captain refused to let us be there. He said that we were too emotionally involved.

"Mac, he held my son hostage and shot my partner. I deserve to be there when he is arrested." Jean stepped up to Jim, putting her arm around his. She reminded him that they promised to not disturb the floor by shouting.

"The Captain won't even let me be there. At least, you got to help Pete by giving blood." Mac was as frustrated as Jim was but he had an additional burden weighing on him. Pete once made Mac promise that if anything happened to him, Mac would be there to help Jim deal with his death. It was a promise that Mac would keep, but prayed that he wouldn't have to fulfill it.

The OR doors opened as a man, oddly dressed in clean scrubs, came out to speak with them. He looked tired and worried as he approached MacDonald.

"Sergeant MacDonald? I'm Doctor Torrens. I was one of the surgeons working on Officer Malloy." Everyone in the waiting room held their breath; did the doctor look hopeful or resigned?

"Officer Malloy is in the recovery room." He looked at the cheering crowd before asking Mac to speak with him privately. Along with Jim, Jean and Sally, Mac followed the doctor into a small conference room. The four of them were afraid to hear what the doctor had to say that couldn't be said in front of the others.

"As I said, Officer Malloy is in the recovery room, but he is not out of the woods yet. I operated on his shoulder. We were able to restore the blood flow to his arm and it is reacting to stimulation. It will be a while before we know how much function he will have in the arm. There is also the possibility of a second surgery being needed." The doctor paused to let Malloy's friend's time to absorb that information. There was more coming.

"Doctor Franks worked on the abdominal wounds. One bullet passed through his body, nicking the left kidney. He was lucky there. Unfortunately, he wasn't as lucky with the other one. The bullet passed through his intestines and lodged in his stomach. Doctor Franks repaired the damage and retrieved the bullet, but there is a strong possibility of peritonitis. We are starting him on an antibiotic mix to try and keep the infection from occurring, but there is no guarantee that it will work." Jim and Mac were sitting stiff like statues, while Sally and Jean were softly crying. How much more was there?

"During the operation, Officer Malloy went into cardiac arrest. We revived him and finished the operation as quickly as possible. That means that we didn't have time to remove the bullet in his leg. He is in critical condition and is not stable yet. We will be giving him at least another transfusion; hopefully, that will help. We will be keeping him heavily sedated as we don't want him moving around. Once he is settled in the ICU you will be able to see him for short periods of time." The four of them sat there stunned. They were expecting to hear that he would be alright or that he had died, but they were all, Pete included, stuck in limbo. "You might want to notify his family." The doctor turned back towards the OR suite.

"Doctor, if we had decided to delay the operation instead of saving the arm, would he have had a better chance to survive?" Jim wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer. He probably could have asked Sally, but she had made the decision too. The doctor's answer was short and to the point.

"Yes."

**A/N. I know it's short, but I won't be able to write again until Wednesday and I didn't want to go too long between chapters.**

**~J~**


	7. Chapter 7

Black suited men, armed with M-16s climbed out of a large black van ready to approach the house where Carson left Tony Johnson. It hadn't been hard to get the mostly off-duty team together; Pete and Jim were members of the team and they protect their own. Captain Moore had given them clear instructions; if Tony fired on anyone, the SWAT team was authorized to kill on sight. He would not risk losing another officer to Johnson.

The house was in a rundown section of town. Most of the houses had been condemned to make way for an upscale housing development. As a result, most of the them had their windows boarded up; tear gas would not be an option. A few of them were occupied by squatters and drug addicts. Before swat could move on the house, they had to make sure that there wouldn't be anyone in the line of fire. Those evacuated were huddled together to let the detectives determine if they have any useful information. Finally, the team was in position supported by uniformed officers. Captain Moore was there, but he left the operation to Gus Baron, the swat team leader. On Gus's signal, the SWAT team members took up their assigned positions. Snipers climbed roofs; black suited officers, wearing bullet-proof jackets, surrounded the house.

"Tony Johnson. This is the police. Our SWAT team is in place. Come out with your hands up or we will come in to get you. This is your only warning." Every officer tensed up when no answer was forthcoming. If Tony was still in there, they would have to go in and get him. Gus held up a hand in a signal to the team to move in. Two officers, one on each side of the door, swung a battering ram and forced the door open. Four officers, armed with military style rifles, stormed into the front room of the house. After a systematic search of all the rooms, Tony Johnson wasn't found.

xxxxx

"Jim? Do you know how to get in touch with Pete's parents?" While Jim explained to Jean what Pete had done in the backyard, Mac's attention kept going back to what the doctor had said to them. Did he have to respect what he knew to be Pete's wishes or did his parents have the right to be notified? If it was his son in the recovery room, he would want to know, but wasn't it Pete's choice?

"I don't know Mac, but you know that Pete doesn't want them notified." After Pete was shot in the narco raid, Jim fought with the same issue. Then, he had argued to not call Pete's parents. While Pete was glad they didn't call them, Jim felt guilty. Shouldn't his parents have the right to say goodbye to their son? Was he writing off Pete's chances for survival if he called them?

"Wouldn't you want to know if it was your son in the ICU? Did Pete tell you why he didn't want them called?" Mac had taken a lot of flak from the Captain over his insistence that Pete's parents shouldn't be called the last time. He wasn't so sure that he could justify choosing that option again.

"The distance, the fact that his parents are farmers and can't leave for more than a day or two without having to hire people to take care of the animals." Jim paused a few seconds, hemming and hawing. "I think he just doesn't want to worry them."

They were interrupted by the hospital PA reporting a code Blue in the ICU. In addition to the doctors and nurses running toward the ICU, the four people most worried about Pete ran there too. No one said anything as they watched the crowd around the bed working on Pete. The nurse who was using an ambu bag to force air into Pete's lungs. Another nurse was putting clear gel on the paddles used to administer electric shock to a patient in cardiac arrest. At the call of "clear" everyone but the doctor took a step back; watching as the doctor sent a charge of electricity through Pete's chest. The shock caused Pete's body to jerk up before falling flat on the bed. To his friends it felt like an hour before the heart monitor began beating in a regular rhythm. Pete was back, again. As the doctor was leaving, he told the group that since Pete was the only one in the room they could stay with him. Mac loomed over Pete just long enough to assure himself that his friend was still alive. Then he turned to leave.

"I'm calling his parents." Jim, Sally and Jean's silence confirmed to Mac that they agreed with his choice.

Jim stood at the foot of Pete's bed watching him closely for any signs of trouble. Jean and Sally stood by Pete's right side with Jean gently touching Pete's hand. Sally cried softly and ran her fingers through Pete's hair, pushing back that tuft of hair that kept falling on his forehead. Watching Sally, Jim realized that she and Pete were more than causal friends; she clearly loved him.

"We were so stupid, both of us." Sally was speaking to Jean as well as Pete. "Why did we let our careers get in the way?"

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" Jean had seen the same signs that Jim did. It wasn't hard to notice the way she looked at Pete.

"Yes." Sally paused to wipe the tears off her face. "He loves me too. Ever since my niece's wedding, we've been spending a lot of time together."

"I know you have, Jim told me, but I got the feeling that you were keeping it casual, like the last time." Sally reached out to take the handkerchief that Jim offered her.

"He's been happier lately. Happier than I've seen him in a long time." Now that Jim knew that Pete and Sally were a real couple, a few things made sense now. The phone calls Pete disappeared into the watch commander's office to make. The lunches that Pete brought in on the days they agreed to brown bag it were no longer sandwiches from a deli. Plus, Pete no longer talked about his dates with different women. Jim thought Pete was taking some time before starting a new relationship. Clearly, he was wrong.

Sally ran a hand along Pete's right arm, sighing. "I forgot how good it feels to be wrapped up in his arms. We let it slip away." When Jean reached out to put a hand on Sally's shoulder she threw herself against Jean. She was crying again. "He can't die Jean, he just can't."

A nurse came into the room, telling them that it was time to leave. None of them wanted to step away from Pete, but the nurse was insistent. There were two uniform officers standing on either side of the door, guarding Pete. Jim spoke to Woods and Wells, explaining more about Pete's condition. When Jim said that they were only allowed in for short periods of time, Wells began pushing Jim back into the room.

"Oh no Junior. You need to stay with him. Don't leave him alone." It was a strange sight, a uniformed officer trying to push a reluctant man into a room.

"Ed, let go! The doctor doesn't want us in there. Besides he's sedated. It's not like he's going to know whether we're in there or not." Truth was Jim didn't want to leave Pete, but the ICU rules were posted: all visitors were limited to ten minutes an hour.

"I don't care what the doctor said. _Do not_ _let him be alone, ever_." This was weird. Wells demanding that they had to go back in with Pete. It made no sense, really.

"Speak English Ed. Why do we have to ignore hospital policy?" Jim thought that Pete would never believe that Ed was standing up for him.

"Just trust me Reed. You have to keep him company. Talk to him. Don't let him be alone." Ed wouldn't share what Pete had told him that night in the ICU waiting room. It was a private moment, but he was damn sure he would repay his friend.

Jim might not be sure, but Sally and Jean believed Ed. They didn't understand why he was saying this, but neither one really wanted to leave to begin with. Sally, who definitely knew the rules, led Jean back into Pete's room.

Ed glared up at Jim. "Now Reed, now!" Jim shook his head in disbelief, but he went back into the room and began telling Pete about Wells' behavior.

Mac found the nearest phone and called the station. He briefed the watch commander on Pete's condition and waited while Murphy found the phone number of Pete's parents. That was the easy part; calling parents was one of the worst parts of his job. Before he called them, Mac called home to fill Mary in on the latest info on Pete, but it was more than that; he needed her strength. Everyone here depended on Mac holding things together and he depended on Mary. He told her all the feelings that he wasn't allowed to show and it eased his mind. It didn't hurt that she was coming to the hospital as soon as she could.

Mac stared at the number he had written on his note pad. He was having second thoughts: Pete's choice about not having his parents notified was clear. Pete came very close to dying after getting shot in the chest during the narco raid, but he hadn't ever gone into cardiac arrest. He's done that at least twice in less than twelve hours. Mac was afraid that it would happen again and that the doctors wouldn't be able to revive him. Mac dialed the number and prayed that Pete would understand the choice he made.

xxxxx

The SWAT team members were a frustrated bunch. Captain Moore saw all the signs: men still holding their weapons, officers pacing, some making the sign of the cross and the rest standing still watching the detectives questioning the people who were evacuated. It was taking too much time. They needed to do something. Three people had seen Johnson around the house; one said that he left not long after the other one drove the Pinto away. That was all the information they had, but it was enough to send officers to canvass the neighborhood armed with a photo of Johnson. Forty-five minutes later, Gus Baron found another witness. She saw Johnson when he bought a sandwich from the deli she worked in. Johnson had taken a cab from in front of her store. She didn't know what cab company it was, but finding the right cab company wouldn't be too hard. Moore and Miller couldn't believe what the dispatcher had radioed in: Johnson took the cab to Central Receiving and Pete.


	8. Chapter 8

As the phone started ringing, Mac fought the urge to hang up. It would be easy to fall back on Pete's wishes, but what had just happened in the ICU was too close for Mac. A soft "Hello" came through the ear piece. Mac no longer had a choice; he would have to speak to Pete's mother. He had never met her, but Pete once described her as being "over protective".

"Mrs. Malloy, this is Bill MacDonald, Pete's sergeant" Mac wasn't sure if Pete ever spoke to them about his time as Pete's partner.

"Oh yes, Peter's told me all about you. Aren't you the partner Peter called 'Mac'?" She sounded happy, cheerful. Somehow that made what he had to tell her seem even worse; he was about to destroy her peace of mind. "You're his sergeant now?"

"Yes Ma'am." Mac swallowed hard; how do you tell a mother that her only son was dying? "I'm sorry to have to call you, but I have some bad news about Pete. He's in the hospital."

"Oh Dear! Is he okay?" Before Mac could answer, he heard Pete's mom calling for her husband. So far, she wasn't crying.

"No Ma'am. I'm afraid he's in critical condition." Mac wasn't sure how much he should tell her over the phone; no sense in telling her about Pete going into cardiac arrest.

"Please… tell me what happened to my son." Her voice had taken on a shaky quality. They had learned about Pete being shot in the drug raid after the fact; Pete had called them only when he was able to tell them that he would be alright. If they were telling her now, it had to be much worse.

"He was shot, Ma'am." Again, how much should he tell her now and what could wait until they arrived in Los Angeles. Was it necessary to tell her that he was shot five times?

A brief pause was followed by the sound of soft crying. "Not again. Please no. Please. Thomas…it's Peter." Mac could hear a whispered exchange before a new voice came on the line; Pete's voice.

"Sergeant? I'm Peter's father. Tell me what happened to my boy; all of it, if you please." It was both unnerving and oddly comforting to hear a close copy of Pete's voice, although his father's voice sounded older, if that was possible. Mac told him everything: how it happened, why it happened and, more importantly, all the details of Pete's condition.

"My son purposely let himself get shot? Is that what you are saying Sergeant?" Oddly, Mr. Malloy didn't sound surprised at the news; he knew full well that his son was capable of sacrificing himself for another. It's one of the reasons they tried to discourage him from becoming a police officer.

"Yes Sir, to save Jimmy, his Godson's life." It was a strange contrast of voices on the parent's side of the line; a crying woman and the stoic echo of his friend. Mr. Malloy seemed to be very much like his son, or was it the other way around?

"I see. My wife and I will be down there as soon as possible. I will call you when we know our travel plans. Thank you for letting us know about Peter." Thomas Malloy hung up the phone and taking his wife into his arms, explained to her what had happened to Pete. Once she had cried herself out, they began to make plans to go to Los Angeles; praying that they would get there before their son died.

xxxxx

Tony Johnson had originally intended to have the cab drop him off at the emergency room entrance, but the presence of three black and whites frightened him into having the cab driver drop him off at a side entrance. Like most cops he was familiar with the layout of the hospital and had planned on sneaking into the ICU to quietly finish off Pete. He was still having trouble understanding how or why Pete hadn't died in that backyard. Then another possibility entered his mind; perhaps Pete was dead and the department wasn't releasing that information in order to trap him. He had to know the truth. Keeping out of sight Tony went into the stairwell. If Pete was dead, there was only one place he could be. Tony headed to the morgue.

There were no cops guarding the hallway in the basement. Why would there be? Who guards a corpse? Tony took the gun from his pocket and walked into the morgue. It was practically deserted with only a single employee in there. Pointing the gun as the older attendant Tony demanded to know where the cop's body was. The frightened employee insisted that there was no dead policeman in the freezer. Tony watched closely while the attendant opened every drawer in the freezer; pulling out trays of covered bodies. None of which was Pete. Out of both frustration and a desire to keep his presence secret, Tony forced the attendant into one of the body slots and locked him in there.

He needed a plan. Shooting Pete was the result of a happy coincidence; Tony only meant to scope out the layout of Reed's house, in case he wanted to take down Reed and Malloy there. The presence of both Pete and the kid was too tempting to ignore, that wouldn't be the case now. Tony knew that, in addition to every cop in LA, the public had his picture. The first thing he needed to do was to change his appearance as much as possible. To that end, Tony stood in the bathroom of a cheap motel shaving his head. Would his ex-comrades recognize him without hair?

Johnson was deliberating the wisdom of going after Pete first. The chances were that Pete would eventually die; of that he was certain. That left Reed as the sole witness to the shooting of Pete Malloy. If he could somehow kill Reed, he might stand the chance of getting away with it. Tony knew that Reed would never stop hunting him down for shooting, and maybe killing Malloy, but assumed the other guys at the station would get over it. Surely none of the others would feel the need for vengeance; they didn't try to take out the guy who reported him for extortion. Why would they continue to care if Pete was killed?

xxxxx

Mac hung up the phone with the sound of Pete's mother crying lingering in his ears. It was always hard to call parents, but this time was different. During their partnership Mac had learned that Pete preferred to keep the reality of his job from his parents. The fact that they lived thirteen hundred miles away kept them from hearing the things Pete didn't want them to know. Mac and Mary had discussed, more than once, the stubborn independent streak that was at the core of Pete's personality. As short as the call was, Mac garnered some insight into Pete's upbringing; a doting mother and a strong father could lead to a son who snuck out of the house at night. He smiled, remembering the over-eager rookie foisted on Val Moore; trying to reconcile that image with a teen climbing out of his bedroom window for a little freedom.

"I hope that smile means you have some good news to tell me." Mac didn't realize that Mary was there until she touched his arm. He shook his head in an attempt to focus his mind on the present.

"There's no change. I was remembering Pete as a rookie." Mac wrapped an arm around his wife, leading her into a corner. He needed her right then. "It's so hard Mary. I just finished calling his parents. They'll be coming to see him."

"Was that wise? You know that he doesn't want them to know what happens to him." Mary laid her head on Mac's shoulder; they would deal with this together.

"His heart stopped twice today. If it happens again, his parents should be here." Mac tightened his arms around his wife. People thought he was the strong one in the family, but it was Mary who gave him strength. He told her everything that was weighing on him and sharing the burden made it easier. Together they walked back to Pete's room.

Woods and Wells were still standing guard over Pete's door. Mac knew that their shifts were over, but he wouldn't tell them to leave. If he forced them to go "end of watch", they wouldn't leave the hospital; instead they would join the other off-duty officers keeping vigil in the waiting room.

"I spoke to his parents. They'll be flying in as soon as they can." Mary went to Pete's bedside, touching his arm as she spoke to him. She hated seeing him like this, but there was something else bothering her.

"Bill, come here. I think he has a fever."


	9. Chapter 9

Tony needed an ally. Now that he had decided to take out Reed first, he needed to know where Jim was staying. It was obvious that the family wouldn't be staying in their house while Reed was a possible target. In addition, it was still an active crime scene. Johnson chuckled, wondering if the family would decide to move rather than keep living at the site of Malloy's death. Despite his failure to find Pete's body in the morgue, Johnson was convinced that Malloy was dead. Tony took a few dimes off the dresser and went to use the pay phone in the hallway. His first call was to Roger Manning, another ex-cop he met in a bar. They shared one thing; each of them went to jail because other officers turned them in. Tony explained the situation and his need to have someone he trusted tailing Reed. He asked Roger to meet him at the Dorado; a run-down motel in one of LA's seedier neighborhoods. Roger refused to help him, explaining to Tony that detectives were asking questions about him. Roger took the detectives' word that it would be better if he stayed clear of Johnson.

Tony slammed down the receiver, wondering how the detectives knew to question Roger. Had he told anyone of his friendship with Manning? Yes, he had told Carson. Now he had another reason to kill him. Johnson knew one more person that might be convinced to help him. He had a cousin; one who would be too afraid to cross him. While Tony dialed his cousin Gary, Roger Manning also placed a phone call, but his was to Detective Miller.

Cousin Gary had seen the news reports about the shooting. The last thing he wanted to do was to help Tony, who seemed to be a bit "off". Tony shot down various excuses before delivering the threat; he would kill Gary if he didn't help him kill Reed. That was when Gary decided that Tony was a raving lunatic, a dangerous lunatic. He agreed to pick Tony up and bring him home with him. Tony was packing up what little he had when he realized that the desk clerk could identify him. There was sure to be a reward for the person who turned him in. With this in mind, Tony went to the front desk and requested another blanket. He followed the clerk into the storage room and closed the door. Tony picked up a pillow, claiming that he needed that too. Before the clerk could reply Tony used the pillow to muffle the sound of the gunshot; one witness down.

xxxxx

Detective Jerry Miller was briefing Captain Moore and the shift's watch commander, Sgt. Murphy, on the progress of the investigation when the call from Roger Manning came in. He wasn't really expecting Manning to help them but he would take help wherever he found it. Miller continued to talk on the phone, writing "Dorado Hotel" on a piece of paper. While Miller got the rest of the information from Manning, Moore and Murphy went into action. SWAT was re-activated and patrol units were diverted to a command post being set-up two blocks from the Dorado. They were taking no chances with Johnson. Early on, Miller wondered about the possibility of asking officers to shoot a former colleague, but every officer assured him that they would do what they had to; for Pete.

A late model black pick-up went unnoticed as it passed the staging area. Gary took note of how many officers, and guns, were assembling in that lot. He wasn't stupid; they had to be there preparing to go after Tony. Was he really so afraid of Tony that he would be willing to get involved on the wrong side of the police? While Tony's death threats held weight when the possibility of facing the police was remote, they paled in comparison to the heavily armed force he saw. Cousin or not, Tony wasn't worth dying for. The pick-up continued down the street, passing the Dorado and taking with it Tony's last chance for help.

Tony closed the door to the storeroom, leaving the dead clerk behind. He went to the cash drawer, taking out what little money there was. Then it was back upstairs to his second floor room. He had a few things to finish packing. Once he was done, Tony stood near the front facing window, which gave him a clear view of the street. Every minute or so, he checked his watch; Gary was late. Tony was watching for a black pick-up and cursed when he saw Gary drive by his window. Had something scared Gary into not helping him? What did his cousin know that he didn't? Tony let out a stream of curses as he put on his jacket and shouldered his backpack. He was alone now.

xxxxx

Back at the hospital, Mac placed the back of his hand on Pete's forehead to see if Mary was right about Pete having a fever. He took his hand away before asking Jim to wake up Sally, who had cried herself to sleep. Reed didn't want to wake her, but she was a better judge of Pete's condition than they were. Sally put her hand on his chest then rang for the ICU nurse, asking her to call the doctor. They had been warned that a large percentage of people who suffered an injury like Pete's were at risk of developing peritonitis. Still, they hoped Pete would skip this complication. The door opened but instead of the doctor, Ed Wells came in

"Mac, the station called. Pete's parents are arriving at LAX at 6:40. A black and white has been assigned to pick them up. Murphy also said that since his parents have been notified, Pete's name was being released to the press…in case you need to call anyone beforehand." Strangely Ed went to the far side of Pete's bed and whispered something in his ear. None of the others heard what he said and he refused to tell them. If he did they would definitely think he had been up too long. How to explain saying what he did to an unconscious friend? Ed prayed that Pete heard him whisper; "I'm yelling at you, Malloy. You are not allowed to die. If you leave, there will be no one left for me to torment."

The doctor and Ed Wells passed each other in the doorway. Ed, who sensed that something was wrong, hesitated to close the door, but Mac motioned for him to get back to his post guarding the door. It was Sally who spoke up about Pete having a fever. Dr. Franks asked them to step out while he examined Pete. The quintet left, but stayed close to the door.

"Is there anyone we should call? I left a note for the kids. They'll be worried so I'll give them a call." Mary took the lead on this issue, giving Mac a chance to process his emotions. She saw the signs of stress that the others didn't: the way he flexed his fingers in and out of a fist, the bobbing of his Adam's apple and finally, the way he kept brushing his hand against hers.

"Kids! We should definitely call Judy so she can tell David what happened. Pete wouldn't want him to hear it on the news." Jim nodded at Jean's suggestion; wondering if there was a way to warn Pete's basketball team. "What about TJ and Katie Porter? Pete stayed close to Marge and the kids." Pete had made the same promise to Tom that he asked of Mac; take care of those I leave behind. He kept his word, becoming a surrogate father and those kids loved him.

"Mrs. O'Brian? He would want her to know, but I'm not calling her!" Mac had a history with Pete's feisty landlady. They all laughed at Mac's expression. It felt good. Jim teased him, saying it wouldn't hurt to get the old lady on his side. Mac's "stern sergeant's glare" said it all; Jim called Mrs. O'Brian. There were more "what- abouts" than they had time for. They made the most important ones while they waited for the doctor to finish examining Pete.

It was 100.5. Not much of a fever, but enough to be of a concern. A post-surgery fever was normal, however, given the nature of Pete's wounds, it made sense to order a stronger antibiotic added to his current ones. While he was there, he decided to check Pete's condition; he was going to check him in thirty minutes, so this counted. He checked Pete's pupil response first. It was a little slow, but that was a side effect of the sedative they have him on. Next, he wanted to check the abdominal wounds; if there was an infection starting it would surely be there.

As he began to remove the bandage he thought he heard Pete moan. To test if he was feeling pain, Dr. Franks put pressure near the surgical wound. He was rewarded with a louder moan. Dr. Franks grabbed Pete's good hand, asking him to squeeze it. The third time he asked, Pete applied pressure to the doctor's hand. While the response was a good sign, it meant that Pete needed pain medication in addition to the sedative. Fortunately, he had ordered some for when it was needed and sent the nurse to get Pete a dose of morphine. Dr. Franks carefully reached for Pete's left hand, intent on checking for a response there too. Once again, Pete made an attempt to squeeze his hand. Franks wasn't expecting him to be able to make a fist; any movement in Pete's hand was a bonus.

After checking the surgical sites, Franks left it to the nurse to clean the area, reapply the bandages and give Pete the rest of his medications. He smiled when he saw the group loitering in the hallway. They looked like they could use some good news.

"Relax; I didn't see any sign of an infection. As far as I can tell, it's a normal post-operative fever. However, I am prescribing another antibiotic in case I missed something. It's a reasonable precaution when a patient's immunity might be weak due to the loss of his spleen. While I was examining Officer Malloy, I was able to get a response from him. He squeezed my hand, not only with this right hand, but with his left. That's a very good sign. I've given him some pain medication already and he will receive another sedative. You can go back in once Nurse Melton finishes." While they waited Jean pulled Jim aside; she needed to tell him something in private.

"Judy started crying when I told her about Pete. She's going to tell David when he gets home, but…well. She wanted to come to the hospital and wait with us. I didn't know what to tell her, I mean, Sally's here. So, I said she should stay with David, but Jim, Judy started saying that she shouldn't have driven Pete away. I stopped her before she could say anything else by telling her I needed to get back into the room. It sounded like she wanted him back." Jean's face said it all; she seemed to find the whole idea distasteful. Even if Pete wasn't in love with Sally, Jean wouldn't want to see Pete go through that again.

"Unbelievable. If she shows up here, you're going to have to tell her about Sally." Jean didn't miss the part where her husband nominated her to give Judy the boot. The glare she gave Jim would have shattered Lot's wife.

"Okay. We'll tell her together." Jim knew when to push his wife and when to give in.

Sally knew that once Pete was sedated again he wouldn't be responsive for hours. Before that happened she had something to say to him; leaning close, she brushed his cheek with her fingers and whispered to him. "If you can hear me, don't you dare break the promise you made me last night." She shook her head, had it really been less than eight hours since this horror began?

xxxxx

Tony paused on the stoop in front of the hotel. He waited to see if anyone on the street recognized him. There was no chance that any of his station mates wouldn't spot him, those he thought he could avoid. It was the public that posed the greater threat now. When no one seemed to notice him, Tony started walking to the nearest corner. He went into the pawn shop a few doors down and bought a pair of binoculars. If he was going to get to Reed he needed a way to watch the back of the station without being seen. Jim was sure to either go in or go out sooner or later. For now, he needed to catch the next bus; sure that he was safe from being recognized Tony walked to the next corner.

"Damn. I don't believe it. Gus, you've got to see this." Gus Baron, leader of the SWAT team turned towards Dave Jenkins, one of the team's snipers. The officer was looking through the scope on his rifle. He handed it to Gus and pointed down the street. It took a second or two before Gus was able to focus on a bald man on the corner.

"Damn is right."


	10. Chapter 10

Assaulting the Dorado Hotel was planned out to the smallest detail. All SWAT operations were important but this one was personal. If the information Manning gave Sgt. Miller was accurate, Tony Johnson intended to murder Jim Reed. Pete Malloy was already in Central Receiving in critical condition, having been attacked without warning; every officer was determined that Pete wouldn't be joined by his partner. All that careful planning had just flown out the window. Johnson was out of the hotel, standing a block away and was surrounded by pedestrians. Already, there were snipers on the roofs across the street from the hotel. The buildings across the street were being evacuated through their back doors. Black suited SWAT members were entering the back of the hotel; ready to position themselves outside Johnson's door. Squad cars were standing ready to block the intersections and Johnson had walked into the middle of it.

Whatever else, Tony Johnson was, he was an experienced police officer. Gus Baron knew the second he saw Johnson through that rifle scope that it would be impossible for all of the personnel converging on the hotel to avoid being seen. Sgt. Baron grabbed the radio and ordered all officers to fall back. They did have a back-up plan for unmarked cars to follow Johnson if he got into a car, but he standing at a bus stop. There was no way that SWAT could let him board a bus even if they had to have one of the snipers kill him without giving Tony the chance to surrender. Gus Baron wasn't authorized to make that call.

Suddenly, Johnson grabbed a woman and her small child from the bus stop and dragged them into the pawn shop. Now they had an armed man, who knew police procedures, holding at least two people hostage. The pawn broker inside raising the hostage count to three. The potential for this becoming even more dangerous was sure to rise; pawn shops always had a ready supply of guns and ammunition. The snipers were ordered back to their positions, the road blocked off and on the street level, officers assumed positions both in front and back of the pawn shop. The building was sealed off; now all they had to do was to get Johnson out.

"Don't worry; I'll take care of things." The pawn broker spoke softly into the ear of the young mother as he tied her hands together. Tony's gun was pointed at the frightened toddler huddled next to her. If she said anything in response, it was lost in the sobs of the child. The pawn broker, an elderly man with a nice smile, reached out to the child, hoping to calm her down. In a mixture of anger and frustration, Tony Johnson kicked the toddler. That was too much for the pawn broker, who yelled and lunged at Johnson. There really wasn't much of a struggle; an elderly man versus and ex-con who had spent a lot of his free time in prison lifting weights. The would-be hero fell to the ground as the bullet ripped through his chest.

"Shut up!" Johnson yelled at the screaming woman. "Damn that old geezer shouldn't have done that. He made me waste a bullet. You stay where you are or I'll kill the kid. I don't have anything to lose." Tony moved to the locked glass case behind the counter; he needed bullets and a rifle, if he was going to take out those snipers. He swung his right hand into the cabinet shattering the glass and blooding his hand. "So much for gun safety." His body was high on an adrenalin rush, increasing the recklessness he was feeling. It wasn't a question of how to get out anymore; it was a question of how many ex-friends he took out in the process.

"There's really no other choice Captain. We can't use tear gas with the kid inside. I don't know who Johnson shot, but I'm positive it wasn't a misfire. He's got an unlimited supply of weapons and can keep us at bay until he's starving. I'll try to talk him out, but if we go for a kill shot, it has to be before sundown." His watch read 6:30 with sundown less than two hours away.

xxxxx

Tears were slipping out of Katherine Malloy's eyes as the airport came in sight. She had managed to keep her emotions in check during most of the flight from Seattle, but her only son was dying down there. Tom wrapped his arm around her, pulling his wife close to him. He had told her most of what Mac had said, but stopped short of telling her about Peter's cardiac arrests; there would be time later.

"Peter's a fighter and he can out stubborn you. I refuse to give up on him until he does and I don't think he will." Burdened as he was with more information than his wife, he still had to keep up a positive front. Mary was sure to breakdown when they saw Peter, but that was still an hour away. For now, he would be the strong one; ignoring the churning in his stomach. Was knowing what Peter was going through better than finding out after it was over? After Peter finally told them about being shot in the drug raid, Thomas was sure he would have preferred to know about it when it happened. Now, he wasn't so sure.

A friendly stewardess handed Mrs. Malloy a tissue. Earlier Thomas had briefly explained to her that they were going to Los Angeles to visit their son in the hospital without saying why he was in there. It wasn't that he was ashamed of Peter's career, but he had run into police haters before. Katherine didn't need to hear it from fellow passengers. They were met at the gate by two policemen wearing uniforms with shirt creases sharp enough to cut yourself on.

Walters and Fraser were working overtime; everyone was. With almost twenty-five SWAT and uniformed officers working to apprehend Johnson, off-duty officers had been called in to supplement the regular rotation. Fraser was the first officer to volunteer to pick up Pete's parents at the airport. He felt he owed a debt to Pete for giving him a second chance after things didn't work out with Wells as his training officer. Walters was more than happy to take on that assignment; it was the least he could do for his longtime friend. Introductions and expressions of sympathy were about all was said as the quartet made their way to the squad car. The ride home would be very different.

"Is there any more news about Peter? We haven't spoken to anyone in several hours." Thomas Malloy was hoping to hear some good news but not hearing that Peter had died during the trip was a gift in itself.

"The Sarge said at roll call that Pete was holding his own. There was some worry that he was developing an infection, but Keating said the doctor didn't think it was anything to worry about, Sir."

"Please, it's Thomas and Katherine. We're farm folk; we don't stand on ceremony much." Thomas's voice was so much like Pete's that Walters didn't think he could tell the difference; he found himself looking into the back seat even when he knew Pete wasn't there. If the worst happened, Bill would miss Pete's steady presence.

"Malloy's from a farm?" Fraser had turned around to stare at the Malloys; clearly he found that very hard to believe. "He sure doesn't _act_ like it."

"He's not what you think a small town farm boy should be?" Thomas and Katherine often had trouble picturing their son as a big city cop. The only time they ever saw Peter in his uniform was at his graduation ceremony. That was the one picture of his son that Thomas Malloy carried in his wallet.

"Rob here is afraid of Pete. Isn't that true, Partner?" Fraser slunk down in the passenger seat, his face a bright red. "Pete can be a little intimidating even without trying." Walter's found the whole thing funny, but then, Pete had never gone into full "Dress-down" mode on him. His two years seniority over Pete did have some advantages.

"You'd be afraid too if he could get you kicked off the force. I plan on staying on his good side until July."

"What happens in July?" Mr. Malloy was having trouble following this. Surely his son didn't have the power to decide this young man's fate. Then again, maybe he did; Peter rarely talked about what his job entails.

"His probation ends and I can stop being his training officer." Walters reached over and patted Fraser on the shoulder. He was getting attached to this one.

"Then isn't it your job to decide if he gets to stay on the force, not my son's?" Thomas and Katherine exchanged confused glances.

"No Sir. He's the _C.T.O_." If Thomas was reading Fraser right, he was not only afraid of Peter, but also a bit awed by him. What was going on?

"C.T.O? That sounds important. Isn't Peter a regular patrol officer?"

"Is that what Pete told you?" Walters' wondered what else Pete hadn't told his parents. "The C.T.O is the Chief Training Officer; he supervises the training of all the rookies. He's also the Senior Lead; the topped ranked officer on patrol."

"Indeed." Thomas arched a brow. His son had never been one to brag about his accomplishments, but he should have told them about his promotions. He got the feeling that there was a lot more they needed to learn about Peter.

The sound of sniffling paused the discussion. Katherine's worrying had been getting worse as they approached the city and the hour ride was almost up. He held his wife close, letting her cry on his shoulder until the hospital came into view. Whatever image they had of Peter's condition was about to receive a severe dose of reality. Was anyone ever ready for that?

xxxxx

Jerry Miller had been ordered to handle the negotiations while Gus Baron kept control of the SWAT team. They had taken over a liquor store opposite the pawn shop and a few doors downfrom it. They were close enough for Miller to keep an eye on the place without being in the direct line of fire. False hope wasn't in the detective's nature; there was no way that this was going to end well. Miller would go through the motions of trying to resolve the hostage situation; time, however, wasn't on his side. Tony picked up the phone on the ninth ring, content to let them wait a minute and a half. He ran his bloodstained hand along the row of armed rifles and shotguns he had assembled for his final blaze of glory.

"What are you waiting for? Let's get this over with." The excitement Miller heard in Johnson's voice confirmed his assessment of the situation; Johnson saw this as a last stand. While that was good news for Malloy and Reed, it meant that Gus's team wouldn't have an easy time of things.

"This is Sgt. Miller. First, I want information. How many hostages do you have and who, if anyone, did you shoot." Miller was conflicted, he wasn't sure he wanted to see Johnson dead, but if that was the only way to keep Pete and Jim safe, he would kill Johnson.

"Five. The pawn broker tied to stop me. Are you happy now?" He was too smart to tell Miller the truth; let him sweat it out. "The fool is still alive; for now."

"He's lying!" Miller heard the woman's scream in the background. A long ingrained practice sent his hand to the St. Michael medal he wore around his neck in a silent prayer for that brave woman.

"Shut up Bitch! One more word and I shoot the kid." The woman returned the glare she got from Johnson. Any hope she had for the survival of her and her daughter died along with the pawn broker. If there was any chance it lay with the police and they needed the truth. Her name was Jennifer and she was gambling their lives on the fact that Tony needed his hostages alive.

"I wouldn't do that, Tony. You haven't killed anyone yet and those hostages are keeping you alive." As an ex-cop, Johnson should know that. Did he have any grasp on reality left? Two SWAT officers had reported the death of the motel clerk, but there was no need to tell Tony that fact.

"Don't lie to me. I got that bastard Malloy. He's deader than my grandma." Miller heard the pride in Johnson's voice and the anger he was fighting to contain rose up; he would personally strangle Johnson if he was within reach.

"Pete's alive. You haven't killed him." He was getting a perverse sort of pleasure in telling Johnson that Malloy was alive; or was the last he heard. "Give up. You're going to prison for shooting him, but at least you won't get the death penalty. Stop this before you get in deeper."

"No way he survived. I shot him six times, including two bullets in his gut." Tony was gripping the receiver so tight that the cuts on his hand started to bleed again. Malloy couldn't be alive. He couldn't be.

"He's alive, come out now before this goes any further. You know better than most, that we can't let you go; especially since you have threatened to kill Reed." Miller picked up a pen and signaled for a piece of paper; writing down an order to alert the snipers. Years of negotiating with hostage takers gave him a feel for things like this. His sense was that it would end in Johnson's death.

Tony Johnson put down the receiver, grabbed the woman and pulled her up to use as a shield. Before he could Move towards the door, she yelled "Kill him" loud enough for Miller to hear.

There were two shots and the phone went dead.


	11. Chapter 11

Fear, hope and uncertainty rode in the elevator with the Malloys. A tonsillectomy, an appendectomy; those they could handle, but this was the hospital trip that had haunted their dreams since the day Peter told them he was entering the police academy. They had raised him to take over the family farm, not risk his life every day. Farmers rarely outlive their children. Thomas took his wife's arm, offering support as they reached the third floor. Walters and Fraser led the way into the ICU.

Uniformed and off-duty officers lined the hallway to Pete's room; offering silent support to his parents. They had heard of "The Blue Wall", but had hoped to never see one assembled for their son. It gave them an odd sense of comfort seeing the caring and worry they saw in the officers eyes; they weren't the only ones praying for Peter's survival. Did the officers know the effect their presence had on the couple? Two uniformed officers appeared to be guarding the room at the end of the hall. Thomas and Katherine hesitated, steeling themselves for their first sight of their son. An older officer, accompanied by another man and three women, exited the room. Sergeant MacDonald introduced himself and the others to Pete's parents, who greeted them warmly.

"Peter's told us about all of you; how you're made him a part of your families." Thomas Malloy glanced back at the still assembled line of officers. "It means a lot to us that he has so many people who care about him."

"Pete's pretty popular around the station; even with those he intimidates." Both men shared a short chuckle, knowing the ability Pete had to impose his presence when it was required.

"We learned some of that during the ride in. I'll admit to having some questions, but now I think we need to see Peter." At the Malloys' request, Mac accompanied them into Pete's room.

Oftentimes, reality is found to be tame when compared with the imagination. Any hope of that possibility vanished the moment the Malloys' stepped into their son's room. Katherine gasped, clutching hard to her husband's arm. Peter was pale and lying, unmoving, on the lone bed in the room. There were two IV lines attached to his right arm; one providing a saline solution and the antibiotic, the other was attached to a machine pumping yet another blood transfusion into his veins. He was covered from the waist down by a sheet and by bandages above the waist. His left arm and shoulder were covered from the elbow up to his neck. Gauze bandages wrapped around his chest, pinning his bent arm to his body. A rectangular bandage protected his left side; covering the entrance and exit wounds made by one of the bullets. A larger bandage started at the bottom of his rib cage covering his entire stomach before disappearing beneath the sheet. The bandage wrapped around his right thigh was covered by the sheet.

"Dear Lord, he's going to die, isn't he?" Katherine reached a tentative hand out to her unconscious son, not knowing where it was safe to touch Peter without hurting him. She settled for touching his right shoulder.

"He's alive. Hold onto that." Thomas Malloy's arm was still wrapped around his wife's waist, supporting her.

"Where is his medal? Why isn't he wearing it? Sergeant?" Katherine turned towards Mac and demanded an answer to her question. "Where is his St. Michael medal?"

"Um….well…I'm not sure he was wearing one." In all the time that Mac had known Pete, he had never seen him wearing a religious medal. To Mac, the whole idea of Pete wearing any kind of medal was akin to a horse wearing a tutu.

"I'm sure they had to take it off him during the operation. We'll find it." Thomas knew his son well enough to assume the medal was gathering dust in a drawer, but he would never tell his wife that. Religion was more important to her than it was to both male members of the family. Besides, that tiny issue was the one thing she might have some control over.

"You can ask Jim. Surely, he knows where it is." Yes, technically, Mac was throwing Jim under the bus and he knew Reed wouldn't appreciate it, but he wasn't in the room.

"Officer Reed! Officer Reed!" Thomas' warning to his wife about shouting was lost when Jim opened the door; obviously none of them had gone far. "Do you know what they did with his medal? He needs it on him."

"His medal?" Jim knew as well as Mac that Pete didn't wear a religious medal; yet, he remembered seeing him having one some place. Jean had even asked him about it because it was so out of character for Pete to carry a talisman. Then he remembered. "It's probably at my house with his jacket. Pete carries it on his keychain."

"I'm sure my wife would appreciate it if you brought the medal with you the next time you visit Peter." With that settled, Katheine went into full 'mother' mode. She began by pulling up the sheet, insisting that her son was cold. Next came the blanket followed by fussing with the pillow. When she started to comb his hair, Thomas took her aside. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket; using it to wipe her tears away. "Let him be Dear. They're taking good care of him." While she cried on his shoulder, Mac and Jim left them alone.

xxxxx

Jim was always hungry. It was Pete's principle excuse for any weight he put on. Mac was in the middle of telling Cushman and Keating that they would be in the cafeteria, if needed, when a nurse came looking for him. "Sergeant, we have a problem. There are two women demanding to be allowed in to visit Officer Malloy. I explained that other than the officers and family, no one was to be allowed in. That's when the older one said she was his mother and the other claimed to be his fiancé. I don't know what to do."

MacDonald rolled his eyes; the 'mother' could only be Mrs. O'Brian. Jim took a step back and raised his hands, palms facing Mac. "Don't look at me. Mrs. O'Brian is your problem." Sally's response was quite the opposite of Jim's.

"His fiancé? If that's Judy, I'll wring her neck. Fiancé, how dare she?" Jean's half-hearted attempt to stop Sally's rush towards Judy failed to have any effect on the outraged nurse; she then reached out to stop Mary from interfering. "I told Judy not to come up here. She deserves whatever Sally gives her."

"That one's yours." Mac pointed at Judy, leaving Sally to deal with the "fiancé" claim. He would have more than enough trouble dealing with Mrs. O'Brian.

"Now listen here Sergeant. Don't you dare try and stop me from going in to Pete's room." She stood toe to toe with Mac, waving a finger at him. "He needs someone to take care of him. I don't expect you will pray for him."

"Mrs. O'Brian, believe it or not, but I haven't stopped praying for Pete since this happened." He was extremely offended by her comment; he might not wear his faith on his sleeve, but he did believe in God. "The fact is that you are not needed in there. His parents are with him."

"They need me then." The elderly woman attempted to make an end run around Mac, but he was quicker than she expected him to be. "It will help them to talk to someone who loves Pete."

"You are not the only one that loves Pete." Mac pointed towards the elevator. "You need to leave. If you try to go in that room, I will have you arrested." Normally, Mac couldn't make that threat, but Pete was still in protective custody.

Mrs. O'Brian spun around, whacking Mac with her pocketbook and took a seat in the hallway; maybe he could keep her from going in, but she was determined to speak to Pete's parents when they came out.

"May I speak to you for a moment?" Sally, who never bothered to change out of her uniform, spoke so sweetly to Judy. "Over here, in the corner, out of the way of the rest of the staff."

"I would really like to get to see Pete. He would want me with him." No one had told Judy that Pete had been seeing Sally. Truth was that she had very little contact with the Reeds in the last few months. Keeping to herself made her miss Pete more and more, especially when David talked about basketball games with him.

"Pete hasn't needed you in a long time." Sally had the ability common in all good supervisors to yell without raising her voice. "Why are you showing up now? Do you think he's going to take you back because of this?"

"How dare you talk to me like that? What I am to Pete is none of your concern. He loves me." Judy was betting that Jean and Jim wouldn't have told this nurse about her history with Pete.

"Really? When he left _my_ apartment this morning… I didn't see him kissing _you_ goodbye." Sally went for the jugular; why pussyfoot around? "It wasn't you he said '_I love you_' to last night."

"If you really know him, then you know that we were engaged to be married. A dalliance with you won't matter now that I'm here." Judy spoke forcefully, but inside she was trembling. Could it be possible that Pete had fallen in love with this nurse? Sally smiled when Judy's jaw dropped as she made the jump between 'this morning' and 'last night'.

"You were stupid enough to drive him away." It was time to send her away for good. "He realized that he would never have married you anyway. You had one thing going for you, David. His love for your son was why he stayed as long as he did." Sally took Judy's arm, propelling her towards the elevators. "Leave him alone."

Sally watched the elevator door close, waiting until the lights showed that it had reached the first floor before she joined Mac. He was standing guard on the door while Mrs. O'Brian was knitting a sweater. She did think the old lady's knitting style was a little unorthodox; the way she seemed to keep pointing the needles at Mac.


	12. Chapter 12

Mac did not appreciate having Mrs. O'Brian threatening him with the knitting needles. Nor was he fond of the glare she was sending his way as she knitted. Most of all, he didn't want her to upset Pete's parents. Her comment about loving Pete implied that no one else here loved him. The Malloys found comfort in the presence of the officers now sitting in the ICU waiting room. Their concern for Pete was genuine and he would not let Pete's parents doubt that fact.

On duty officers continued to stop in to check on Pete while they were taking seven at the hospital. When Greene and Sanchez came through the double doors to return to patrol, Mac grabbed the two of them. He assigned them to guard the doors from unauthorized entry into the unit. While he didn't specify Mrs. O'Brian, a wave of Mac's hand made his message clear. They were also given instructions to be on the lookout for anyone trying to sneak past them posing as staff; Tony might send someone to take care of Pete for him.

xxxxx

The truth was that Tony had no one but the woman and child he was holding hostage. He had scoffed at Miller's threat that the woman and her toddler were keeping him alive, but he knew it was true. Instead of aiming to kill, Tony fired near them in an attempt to scare them further. That wasn't the first mistake he made today, but it was the worst decision of his life.

The last thing the officers outside the pawn shop wanted was a dead toddler. After discussing it with Miller one more time, Gus Baron got on the com-unit and passed along the word; if any sniper had a clear shot, they were to take it. This was to be a kill shot.

Tony Johnson, ex-cop, had failed and he knew it. Not only was Malloy somehow still alive, Reed was too. He walked over to the counter where he had set out a variety of weapons; different options required different guns. He chose a rifle equipped with a scope mounted on the barrel. The lack of a back door to the pawn shop would work to his advantage.

"Reed must be out there. I'll find him." Tony was muttering to himself, completely ignoring the woman and her child. "He wants to be the one to kill me because I shot his bastard partner." Jennifer, the young mother saw this situation as ending in the death of her and her child; she had to act, if only to save her daughter. Tony had turned off all the lights on his side of the pawn shop. The fading sunlight shining on the windows would partially reflect back, making it harder for the snipers to see him. Using the rifle barrel, Johnson broke a small hole in the large front window.

The snipers tensed when the first shots came out of the pawn shop. Tony wasn't aiming at them; he knew that Malloy was the sniper of the pair. Reed would be among the team members hugging the walls of the buildings across the street. He was using the same M-16 style rifle the SWAT team was. It shouldn't have been in a pawn shop, but Tony saw that as a sign that God was on his side. While he continued to shoot at the team, the snipers couldn't get a clear shot at him due to the reflections.

If necessity was the mother of invention, desperation was the mother of courage. Tony was too busy shooting to notice what Jennifer was doing. She had sidled closer to a standing light pole; the one Tony unintentionally left on when he picked out the rifle. She said a quiet plea to the Virgin Mary for the safety of her child and proceeded to kick the lamp in Tony's direction. It landed at Tony's feet; the bulb being protected by the lampshade.

Just like that, the reflection was gone and so was Tony Johnson.

xxxxx

At both the scene and hospital, the word of Tony's death spread like a brush fire. The younger officers, those who had never met Tony were excited by the news; Pete and Jim were safe. For the older ones, the ones who had worked with Tony, the happiness was tinged with remorse. He had once been a friend to many of them. Secretly, many of them prayed for a different ending; Malloy and Reed safe with Tony in a maximum security prison for life.

Thomas Malloy came out of Pete's room by himself, giving his wife some time alone with their son. Inside, Katherine knelt on the hard tile floor, rosary beads in her hand. She said the rosary twice; praying harder than she had ever prayed before. Prayers said for other "emergencies" seemed small when compared to praying for her son's survival. That was how Thomas found her when he returned with the others. They had brought some food for her, but she couldn't make herself eat.

The seven of them stayed in Pete's room well beyond the end of visiting hours. Mrs. Malloy fidgeted, unable to stop fussing over her son. Jim decided to tell stories about Pete to try and ease the pain of waiting. He started by telling about the old lady that kicked Pete in the shins and called his parentage in question when he arrested her for refusing to sign a parking ticket. Mac shared Pete's attempt to grow a mustache and the time Pete helped a scared boy down from a tree only to have the kid throw up all over Pete's brand new uniform. Mary Mac Donald talked about the time he destroyed her annoying brother-in-law in Chess. Jean talked about how he was with Jimmy, including when she caught him teaching Jimmy to spit. Jim coughed to cover up a laugh when Jean explained how she straightened Pete out about teaching Jimmy things she didn't think were appropriate. Sally didn't share in the stories, but she enjoyed every one The time passed quickly, with Pete's parents enjoying the funny side of his life.

Thomas insisted that his wife accompany the Reeds home. Mac had convinced Jim that he would be helping Pete more by taking care of his mother rather than sitting up all night watching him sleep. The doctor had checked Pete earlier and was pleased with his progress. There was no sign of infection and his blood pressure was rising. He had Pete sedated; advising them all to go home as Pete wouldn't wake up during the night. Thomas wouldn't leave and Mac would not leave his friend's father to face the night alone. Mac had volunteered to fetch large coffees for both of them. It would be a long night

"You don't really have to stay the night. I can watch him alone." Thomas took the coffee from Mac as they sat down together in uncomfortable plastic chairs set up by the window. The moon providing enough light for them to keep an eye on Pete from there.

"I'm sorry to say that it's become a habit; sitting in the dark just in case he wakes up." Mac was there the night Pete was stabbed in the bar. He and Jim stayed to watch him after the shooting at Dukes, the accident in Griffith Park and when he was shot in the narco raid. Not that Mac was superstitious, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something would go wrong if he left.

"I appreciate the way you and the others watch over Peter. Being so far from him, we worry that he's alone too much." He chuckled softly, remembering his son as a boy. "As a boy he used to sneak away to be alone and, I suspect, to avoid his chores. Katherine and I never did find out where he went and we _looked _for him.

"The tallest apple tree in the orchard." The look of surprise on Thomas' face was well worth spilling Pete's secret. "Pete gave my daughter Kipling's "Just So Stories"; he told her that he first read it when he was hiding in his favorite tree. Apparently your father used to leave books up there for him to find."

"That sounds like something my father would do. He liked to encourage Peter's sense of adventure." It was at times like this that he and Katherine wished their son hadn't been so influenced by his grandfather. Would Peter be working the farm if he wasn't encouraged to dream of faraway places? "Tell me about him; what he does at work. We know so little."

It was a daunting task, but it was a long night. Mac started with the easy things: Pete's days as a rookie, their partnership, training Jim, his promotions, his current rank and responsibilities. Thomas's facial expressions as he listened reminded Mac so much of Pete. It also made him realize how much more he knew about the adult Pete than his parents did. Next he told Thomas about some of the commendations and awards Pete received. Mac wasn't sure his friend would like his parents to know about the Medals of Valor he won, but he told Pete's father anyway. The details of how and why Pete won the medals seemed to scare his father but, if Mac was any judge of his Malloys, Thomas was also impressed.

Mac remembered that Pete left home at eighteen. His parents didn't get to see the progress from a teenager to the man Pete was now. How much of what Pete is today is a result of his childhood and what came from his journey afterward? Explaining his career to his father was definitely easier.

"Pete's a great guy. Yes, he's top of the hill among the patrol officers, but you wouldn't know it if you relied on him to tell you. No matter what we ask him to do, he'll do it and do it well. He's usually easy going, laid back, sarcastic, unflappable in any situation and never one to lord his authority over anyone, unless it's necessary. If it is, get out of the way." Both men chuckled, each having seen Pete go off on someone. "His authority comes as much from his character as it does from his rank. He's the one the officers go to when they need help; even things that don't involve the job. The men trust him to do his best to keep them safe because they know he cares more about them than himself. They trust his abilities over men with more experience. He's a natural leader."

"That's good to know. There were times when Katherine and I wondered if he'd ever make the jump from ring-leader to real leader." Thomas glanced over at his son and smiled.

"Are you saying that Pete wasn't the altar boy, Eagle Scout type of kid?" Mac had his suspicions about Pete, but this was a chance to have them confirmed. A few months ago, Pete accidently let slip that he taught Mac's kids to sneak cookies from the back of the package; a trick both kids and Mary still blamed on him.

"Peter was an altar boy, he sang in the youth choir at church, he made Eagle at sixteen and he was the biggest mischief maker our small town ever saw. Every time something happened, I knew he was in the middle of it." Both men were laughing at the image each had of Pete, the ring leader. "Do you know, he didn't even try to deny it? I think he was proud of what he did."

"According to Captain Moore, your son is too honest for his own good." Moore had told Mac that in confidence when Pete became his partner. "Jimmy gets crazy ideas. I can't help but wonder if he's teaching the boy some tricks."

"I'm sure he is. Jean probably had as much success discouraging Peter as we did trying to get his grandfather to stop teaching him things. Peter pulled some winners when he was a teen. I remember once, the nuns in his high school came down hard on three of his friends. Peter said it was unfair. Two days later, I heard that someone had stolen all the habits from the convent laundry room. They were found on scarecrows on farms all over town…including ours." Two men laughing in the ICU might seem strange, but after being strong for everyone else, they both needed this.

"Pops?" It was said so softly that they almost missed it.

Pete had been slowly regaining consciousness. Unlike the last time he was in the ICU, the sounds of the heart machine and the blood pump didn't frighten him; he heard the voices. Most of it was too soft for him to understand what was said, but he knew he wasn't alone. The lifeline was there, but was that his Dad's voice?

"Peter, you're awake?" Mac stayed behind as Thomas moved to his son's bedside. He debated leaving until deciding that Mr. Malloy might need the support. If Pete died, his dad would also count as someone he left behind.

"Apparently… unless this is a… weird dream." Typical Pete; snarky comments when he thought he could get away with it. "What are you doing here?"

"Son, do you even know where you are?" The answer to Pete's question could wait.

"It looks like the ICU….I've gotta stop…waking up here." His stomach hurt. Thomas grabbed Pete's hand before he could touch it to figure out why. "What? It hurts." Was Pete really admitting to being in pain? Usually Mac had to drag that admission out of him.

"There's a reason for that, son. As your grandmother once told me, you have enough stitches in there to make a quilt." Thomas got his stitches when he fell off a raft into the rapids of the Columbia River; not being shot. As Mac slipped out to ask the nurse for Pete's pain medicine, Thomas asked his son a question. He needed the answer but didn't want to have to explain things to Pete if he didn't know. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Um…uh...I'm not sure." Pete's brow furrowed as he tried to remember what caused him to be in a hospital trussed up like a mummy. Suddenly, he remembered Tony, Jimmy, everything. His father held him down when Pete tried to get up. "Jimmy! He's…"

"He's fine son. You saved both him and his dad." Thomas got a faraway look in his eyes. "I can't say that I'm happy with what you did, but I understand. I know how much you love that boy."

"I do Pops. He's worth…"

"Dying for?" His father cut off Pete before he could finish. He did understand being willing to die to save a Godson, or a son. "That's what you expected to happen to you, right?"

"I don't want to die Pops." Pete's eyes panned the room; the IVs, the machines and the bandages covering most of his body. His father laid a hand on Pete's good shoulder.

"Then don't. We'll get through this together."


	13. Chapter 13

"Is Pete's mother finally asleep?" When they left the hospital, Jim drove not only Jean home, but brought Pete's mother with them. Jean had taken the older woman into the spare bedroom, while Jim gathered Jimmy from the neighbor's house. Jimmy was having trouble falling asleep; today's events had scared the child. His father had finally gotten him to sleep by reading him "Horton Hatches the Egg". Pete had given it to him for his birthday and it was, currently, Jimmy's favorite book. Jim stayed to watch his son sleeping peacefully; he had almost lost the boy that morning.

"Finally, I think she prayed herself to sleep." Jean had come looking for Jim, having expected him to still be in Jimmy's room. Instead, she found him in the kitchen, staring out into the backyard. The moonlight was casting shadows on some spots and lighting up other parts of the yard. Jim wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to his chest.

"Can you see it, right there, where the grass is darker?" Jean didn't want to look at the lawn; at the spot where Pete lay after being shot. She turned to Jim and buried her face in his chest.

"Honey, come into the bedroom. Standing here staring into the yard, isn't going to help Pete." He resisted Jean's attempts to pull him from his perch by the sliding glass doors that led to the back yard. Only the fact that the backyard had yellow tape wrapped around it kept Jim from going outside; they had been allowed inside the house only after the investigators were done using it

"Neither is going to bed. I should have stayed with him." Jim reached out, grabbing the metal bracket that allowed him to close the door. "I shouldn't have gone to my mother's this morning. He wouldn't be in the hospital dying if I was here when Tony showed up."

"James Reed, listen to me. Pete is not going to die." Jean had grabbed his biceps, squeezing a little too hard. "There's no way you could have known what would happen. What makes you think that creep wouldn't have shot you both; in front of Jimmy?"

"He could be dead now. I should be worried about him. Instead I'm…" Jim fell back against the counter, unable or unwilling to finish his thought

"You're what, Honey?" She had an idea what her husband might be thinking, but refrained from suggesting it, in case that wasn't what Jim meant to say.

"I'm mad at him. Dammit, I'm so mad that I want to break his fool neck." Jean wasn't sure how to answer that. She was scared for Pete, but she was also extremely grateful for what he did. Because of him, her husband and son were safe at home.

"Shouldn't you be mad at Tony Johnson, not Pete?" Today was the first time in her life that Jean found herself happy that someone they knew was dead. Things could have been so much worse.

"I am, but I can't help but wonder if Pete would be in the hospital if he wasn't so selfish sometimes." He reached back with both hands, using them to push himself away from the counter; unintentionally causing Jean to step back. "I'm not a rookie anymore!"

"Selfish?" Jean was having a hard time understanding; Jim wasn't making any sense. "Selfish? How can you say that? He was willing to trade his life for Jimmy's… and yours."

"I know what he did, but maybe he didn't have to." From the moment Jim had run into the yard, things were out of control; out of _his_ control. "He did what he wanted, without asking me if I could think of a better way. Does he think that I wanted him to sacrifice himself?" Jim was shaking, so frustrated and angry at his best friend. "I was armed Jean, he wasn't. He should have trusted me to do something, but instead he dismissed me. Pete can't let someone else be in control."

"Jim, Honey. You don't know what you're saying; your emotions are all messed up. It's not that he doesn't trust your judgement or your abilities. Come on, sit down." She took a seat at the kitchen table; pulling out a chair for her husband. "He knows you wouldn't want him to do what he did, but I think he knew that Tony wouldn't wait long before he started shooting." She gave him a half-smile and shook her head. "Pete doesn't want to die, but you were close enough to grab Jimmy, he wasn't." She laid a hand on top of his. "It wasn't selfishness; it was love."

Jim finally let himself cry for the friend he might lose.

xxxxx

Jim had let Jean lead him to bed, but he couldn't relax. He lay in the dark; listening to Pete's mom repeatedly crying herself to sleep. Jim had quietly prayed for Pete's recovery before his thoughts went in the wrong direction. Hope was replaced with images of what life would be like if Pete died. Could he ever go fishing without sensing the absence of his friend? Would he be able to get used to riding with someone else, knowing that Pete wasn't coming back? What happens to the wing man when the lead plane falls from the sky?

The doorbell rang at 6:30 that morning. Jim sprung from the bed; sure it was Mac and Pete's father coming tell them that Pete was dead. If not, it might have been a reporter since Jim's name had been released when Pete's was. Or Sally, they had told her to come over if she needed talk. The one possibility Jim hadn't considered was Mrs. O'Brian, yet there she was. As he let Pete's landlady inside, he took notice the infamous knitting needles sticking out of her bag.

"Officer Reed, I need your help." Jim recognized the tone of her voice; it was the one she used to yell at Mac and Pete. So far, Jim had yet to find himself on the receiving end of that no-nonsense tone of voice. Was that about to happen? Jim didn't know.

"It's that …that…Scotsman MacDonald. He's as obstinate at a mule. My first husband's mother was a Scot, so I know what they're like. You'll never find one that will listen to reason; always throwing their weight around. All the time thinking that they know better than you do." Mrs. O'Brian was a runaway train with no switch track in sight. As a result, Jim felt some sympathy for Mac.

"Mrs. O'Brian, calm down. Why are you mad at Mac?" Jim knew part of it was that Mac wouldn't let her into the ICU, but she was last seen in the hospital hallway, silently sulking and threatening Mac with her knitting needles.

"He had two officers throw me out of the hospital, that's what he did! He should be horse whipped! Imagine picking on an old lady." Mrs. O'Brian was leaving out one _tiny _detail. Sanchez and Greene caught her trying to sneak past them disguised as a scrub nurse. She even had one of those puffy hats and a mask on.

"Mrs. O'Brian. Pete is in protective custody. That means that only family and fellow officers are let in to see him. I'm sure you will be able to see him when he is moved to a regular room." The only person Jim knew who was capable of handling the feisty old woman was Pete. She had terrorized the entire station demanding that they find her stolen purse; mainly she tormented Mac.

"Pete needed someone last night and those two officers told me that you left him alone. I should have been with him." Jim looked around, where was Jean when he needed her?

"He had his father with him, plus the sergeant." Katherine Malloy had come out of the spare bedroom when she heard the commotion. She hadn't slept much and worrying about her son didn't help her disposition. Her voice had dropped down in pitch. Jim saw that as the sign it was; Pete's voice dropped when his dander was up. "It's Thomas, who should have been at Peter's beside last night and he was. As soon as Jim is ready, I'll be going to take his father's place."

"Oh. I didn't know his dad stayed. The officers let me think that you had aban…." Mrs. O'Brian's voice faded with each step Mary took towards her.

"We may live over a thousand miles away from him, but I assure you, we love Peter more than you ever will. Thomas and I have made arrangements for friends to take care of the farm; we'll be here as long as _our son_ needs us." Having dismissed Mrs. O'Brian, Pete's mother went to get ready to leave. Inwardly, Jim smiled. Pete might look like his father, but he definitely got some things from his mother.

"Give her some time. It's been a shock for both of them." Jim understood that some people, Pete included, developed a short fuse from worrying too much. He assured Mrs. O'Brian that Katherine would change her mind once Pete was out of danger. Finally she let Jean drive her home.

Katherine and Jim were having coffee and muffins when Jimmy ran into the kitchen. He was dressed in Superman pajamas and carried a large floppy stuffed dog. Jim picked him up, gave him a hug and turned him to see Mrs. Malloy. Any shyness the boy had disappeared when he found out who she was. Jimmy told her how his "Uncle Pete" taught him how to fish, kick balls and spit. Jimmy looked to see if his mother was nearby before adding that he's not supposed to let is mother know that he still likes to spit. It was obvious to Katherine that the four-year old loved her son. Somehow, that made her feel a little better about the choice Peter made.

xxxxx

Mac and Thomas continued to share stories while the subject of them slept. The conversation flowed easily between the two men; even with Mac finding the resemblance between Pete and his dad a little unnerving. Pete had only been awake for those few minutes, but it was enough to lift the spirits of both men.

Dr. Franks had been returning every four hours to check on Pete's condition. This time his clothes were wrinkled and his hair was a mess; he must have taken a nap in his office instead of going home to sleep. Was he keeping close tabs on Pete out of worry for this particular patient or devotion to his job? Mac and Thomas didn't care why Franks kept coming back, as long as he did.

"Good morning gentlemen. How's my patient doing? He began to check on Pete without waiting for an answer. After reading Pete's chart, Dr. Franks started his exam by shining a light into Pete's right eye. He wasn't expecting a response, but he got one. Pete jerked his head to the side and made an attempt to raise his right hand and block the light. "Relax Officer Malloy, I'm Dr. Franks, I was one of the surgeons who operated on you yesterday. How do you feel?"

"Rocky. Can I have some water?" Thomas and Mac's attention was caught by the raspy voice from the bed. They took his being awake as a good sign. The doctor's refusal of water resulted in a grunt from Pete, who really wanted a drink.

"I'm sorry Officer Malloy, but we don't want you putting anything in your digestive system yet. I can have the nurse bring you some ice chips, if you want." Dr. Franks had ignored the grunt; proceeding to check Pete's other eye, but Pete was not a happy camper. He jerked his head and closed his eyes tight.

"Officer Malloy, please cooperate." Franks rang for the nurse, asking for both ice chips and a large dose of pain medication.

"It's Pete and why should I?" Franks took a deep breath and let it out slowly, while Mac and Thomas laughed out loud. They recognized the expression on Pete's face. Weak as he was, Pete was getting ready to argue the point.

"My son has a stubborn streak as wide as the Atlantic Ocean, Doctor." Thomas turned to Mac and said, "He gets it from his grandfather." MacDonald refrained from voicing his opinion that Mr. Malloy must have it too. Stubbornness ran in families and it was a necessary trait for a cop or a former drill sergeant.

"I can see that." Franks looked to the two men laughing. Apparently, he expected to receive some help from either Pete's dad or his sergeant. When neither one made a move, Franks tried again. "You don't remember, but I spoke to you in the recovery room. One of the bullets we took out of you damaged your intestines and stomach. They need time to heal." Pete opened his eyes and glared at the doctor, who leaned forward to loom over his patient. "That's why!"

"Ice is water." Pete wasn't ready to give up yet; it was keeping his mind off the pain. He also didn't see the logic of giving him ice chips instead of letting him drink some water.

"Ice is absorbed by the tissues of your mouth. It doesn't reach your stomach." Dr. Franks was losing his patience, normally his patients don't argue with him; at least not until they were out of the ICU.

"He's got you there, Pete." Whatever retort Pete was planning to say was stopped by his father calling him Pete, instead of Peter.

"Pops?" Something strange was going on. Never in his life, had his father called him Pete. He tried to move just enough to see his father, but got a rush of pain and fell back onto the bed.

"Don't move! Do that again and I'll have you tied down and sedated." Dr. Franks had been considering giving Pete a small amount of water, but there was no way he would let his patient hurt himself by moving. Pete let out a grunt in protest, but he was giving up; he was in too much pain.

"Settle down, Pete." Thomas stepped closer to the bed. "That is what you prefer to be called now, isn't it?" The nurse had come into the room. She set the cup of ice chips on the nightstand and injected the pain medicine into the IV port in his arm.

"Yeah…Pops." The morphine worked fast, leaving a much more cooperative patient. Pete was drifting off to sleep when his mother arrived.


	14. Chapter 14

When Katherine Malloy arrived at Pete's room, her son was in a deep, morphine induced sleep. She paused in the doorway, unsure if she could, again, face the sight of Peter covered in bandages and surrounded by machines. It was her worst nightmare come alive; one that started the day Peter called to tell them that he had been accepted into the Police Academy. Katherine took a step backwards and bumped into Jim, who kept her from falling.

"I can't. I can't do this again." She made an attempt to push Jim out of the way so she could go back into the hall. Thomas heard his wife's plaintive cry and rose from his chair to go after her, taking her arm and leading her past Jim. Katherine let her husband guide her down the hall to an empty room. Jim thought about following, not to listen, but to be in earshot if they needed him. Then he caught sight of Mac alone in the room and changed his mind, joining Mac at Pete's bedside.

"How's he doing Mac? He looks a little better, I think." Jim reached out to run a hand along Pete's right arm; he needed to assure himself that his friend was still alive. It didn't make sense, as Pete was clearly was, but emotions were guiding his actions.

"There's been some improvement. He was awake twice, for about ten minutes each time. Despite the circumstances, Mac found a small smile. "He argued with Dr. Franks because he wanted water instead of the ice chips the doctor said he could have."

"He did? This soon?" Jim smiled, picturing his partner's stubborn insistence on water. "That's a good sign. He's going to be okay, isn't he?" Mac saw the plea in Jim's eyes; he wanted reassurance that they weren't going to lose their friend.

"I think he'll live." MacDonald didn't want to discourage Jim, but he couldn't give him false hope. It felt wrong; as if Pete would be mad at him for not preparing Jim for what might happen. "That's the best we can hope for now."

"You don't think he's going to get better?" Surely Mac wasn't suggesting that Pete wouldn't recover fully; he had to.

"I want him to Jim, but all this might be too much for him to overcome." A sweep of Mac's arm took in all the machines and their heavily bandaged friend. "How many times can we expect him to fight his way back to full duty condition?" MacDonald didn't realize that he had placed his left hand on Pete's good shoulder.

"You're giving up on him?" Jim's voice rose in pitch when he was tense or upset; it was shaky but held the beginning traces of anger. Combined with eyes that were filled with a mixture of pain and hope, Jim was worrying Mac.

"I'm not writing him off, but be realistic Jim. It's entirely possible that Pete might not get back full motion in his arm. He might have permanent damage to his stomach. We don't know." Mac didn't realize how tight his grip on Pete's shoulder was until they heard a low moan from the bed. As Mac pulled his hand away, Pete opened his eyes.

"Partner?" Pete was confused. He had no memory of what had happened to him; it was a common side effect of Morphine. His sleep had been full of disjointed images, most of which made little sense to him. Jim was, however, right in his line of sight. Comforted by the knowledge that Jim had his back, he gave his partner a half smile and went right back to sleep.

"Come by the window Jim. Pete's weak, he doesn't need us waking him up." Reed was reluctant to leave Pete's bedside, but Mac was right. The two of them stood by the window and continued their discussion.

"Look at him. He's covered in bandages and the doctor said he will need at least one more operation. There is still a bullet in his leg and his shoulder might need more surgery." Mac reached out to Pete's partner, laying a hand on Jim's shoulder. "I want him to recover fully too; the station wouldn't be the same without him, but you need to face the fact that he might never work again."

"I won't let that happen to him. He and I worked hard to get him back to patrol after every injury. We can do it again." Jim refused to consider the idea that Pete might have to retire because of his injuries. Deep inside, Jim felt that God wouldn't punish Pete for the choice he made.

"Any recovery he makes is more than Pete expected. He made the choice to die for your son." Mac kicked one of the plastic chairs in Jim's direction; grabbing another one for himself. "Whether he fully recovers or not, do you think Pete would take back that decision?"

"No, he wouldn't." Jim sat in the chair, elbows on his knee, and held his head in his hands. The benefit of this sign of resignation was that it hid his tears from Mac.

xxxxx

For the first few minutes, all Thomas did was to hold his wife as she cried herself out. It was exactly what he wanted to do; cry for his son. He didn't have that luxury. Katherine needed him to be strong and so did Pete. When he considered all he had heard about his son during the last 24 hours, Thomas realized that the name "Pete" fit his son better than the more formal "Peter" that Katherine insisted he use.

"I know it's hard to see Pete like that, but he needs us." He pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket, using it to wipe he tears off her face.

"Please, don't ask me to watch him die. I wish the Sergeant hadn't called us." Katheine was unable to stop shaking. Before this, the images of her son she held in her memory were happy ones. She was like many mothers who saw the ghost of the child in the face of the adult. His grin was the same one he flashed her when she caught him eating the popcorn off the Christmas tree. The bright red hair had darkened as he grew, but that cowlick at the hairline was still causing trouble. As much as he tried to scrub the freckles off his face, they were still there too.

"Last night, Pete and I agreed that he wasn't going to die. Do you doubt the two of us?" Thomas used his right hand to lift Katherine's chin up until their eyes met. His head cocked to the side and he forced a smile for her. Katherine saw that same cocked head and smile from her son whenever he wanted an extra piece of pie.

"You talked to him last night?" The only reason she went to Reed's for the night was because the doctor had told them that Peter wouldn't wake up. Mrs. O'Brian was right, she had deserted her son. "I should have been there with you when he woke up."

"We talked a little, he wasn't awake long; maybe ten minutes." Thomas placed his hand on Mary's forearm, both to comfort her and to keep her from rushing off. "I made you leave. Pete probably won't remember that Mac and I were even there."

"Does he know what happened to him? Was he in pain?" She was fiddling with the bottom button on the sweater she was wearing. Katherine always did that when she was upset.

"He knows where he is and remembers what happened, but he might not know the next time he wakes up. Pete doesn't regret what he did. " It seemed to Thomas that he should prepare his wife to accept Pete's decision. He knew that their son would argue the point with his mother. That reminded him and he smiled. "He's still stubborn. Would you believe that he argued with the doctor?"

"Did he ask where I was?" What Mrs. O'Brian said hadn't bothered her before she found out that Peter had woken up. The only thing that would make her more upset was if her son asked for her and she wasn't there.

"He was too out of it for him to notice much." Thomas was grateful for MacDonald's company; it helped to have someone to talk to. He would share some of what Mac told him about Pete, but he wouldn't tell her about the dangerous parts. Why add to her worry? "Are you ready to go back?"

"I met Jimmy this morning. He loves Peter." They were heading back to be with their son when Thomas remembered he had something else to tell her.

"Call him Pete."

xxxxx

"Why me God?" Mac tilted his head back and spoke to the ceiling. That clicking sound he heard could only mean one thing; Mrs. O'Brian was back. Mac was heading toward the ICU waiting room to give the officers keeping vigil the latest news about Pete's condition when he heard it. He followed the sound to the stairwell and found Mrs. O'Brian sitting on the steps. Round two.

"Mrs. O'Brian, what are you doing here? I told you yesterday that you are not allowed in to see Pete." Mac, who hasn't slept in over twenty-four hours, had little or no patience for Pete's landlady.

"I understand Sergeant. I'm not here to see Pete." The old woman stood up and climbed to the third step of the staircase. The effect of that move was that Mrs. O'Brian was now looking down at Mac. She gave him the evil eye and held both needles in her right hand, tips pointed at MacDonald.

"Do you expect me to believe that you find the light in the stairwell perfect for knitting?" Mac moved closer to Mrs. O'Brian and rose to stand on the first step. It was a dangerous move; the needles were awfully close to his chest but it brought them eye to eye.

"Don't you take that tone with me Sergeant." Instead of wagging a finger at him, she wagged the needles. "I'm not afraid to go to the station and tell your captain how you have treated me. Surely your captain is a gentleman."

"Feel free to report me to Captain Moore. It still won't get you in to see Pete." The insinuation wasn't lost on Mac. He took a deep breath before diving back into argument. "Go home. I'll have you arrested if you try to sneak into his room."

"I am sitting here knitting. You can't arrest me for that." To accentuate her point, Mrs. O'Brian slammed the middle part of the needles on Mac's shoulder. "I told you I'm not here to see Pete. It's his mother I have to talk to."

"She's in with her son. Why would you want to pull her away from his bedside?" She was pushing his temper to his breaking point. Mac grabbed the needles out of her hand. "Hit me again and I'll book you for assaulting a police officer. Leave before I change my mind and arrest you."

"I'm staying here until I can apologize to her." She plopped down on the fourth step and crossed her arms in front of her chest; daring Mac to do something about it.

"Apologize? What did you do to Mrs. Malloy?" The thought that she did something to upset Pete's mom put her over top. Mac had never dressed down an old woman before, but he wasn't above doing it. "Never mind, I don't want to know. I'll find out what you did and make sure Pete knows it too. Get out of here, right now or I swear…"

"How dare you swear at me? Is that what they are teaching police officers to do?" She had missed the point, but with tempers flying the actual meaning of a statement can easily be lost.

"I didn't swear. Tell me one cuss word I used." Mac's voice was loud enough for the officers in the nearby waiting room to hear, but not one would dare step into the middle of that.

"You don't have to yell." She huffed at him then picked up her knitting bag. "I'm going home, but this isn't the end. I'll be back." Mrs. O'Brian went around Mac before holding out a hand, palm up.

"That's one thing I'm sure of." Mac used his chin to point at the old lady's hand. "What?"

"My needles." With all the dignity she could muster Mrs. O'Brian had answered his question.

Mac rolled his eyes before turning away from the old woman; knitting needles kept tight in his fist, he left the stairwell.

.


	15. Chapter 15

Another pint of blood was starting to flow into Pete's veins when his parents came into the room. They watched while the nurse checked Pete's temperature and injected something into his IV line. Thomas felt a shiver run down his spine when the nurse rechecked his son's temperature. Why had she done that? The nurse must have noticed them watching her; she gave them a small smile and explained that she had given Pete some pain medication. Still Thomas Malloy felt uneasy about his son's condition.

Katherine didn't let her earlier feelings prevent her from fussing over her sleeping son. First, she adjusted the blinds so that the sun wasn't shining on Pete's closed eyes. She pulled the sheet and blanket up to cover his entire chest. While his wife was busy trying to adjust Pete's pillow without waking him up, Thomas took the opportunity to sneak a peek at the chart hanging at the bottom of the bed. Much of what was written on it didn't make sense to him but there were two things he did understand; Pete's blood pressure was going down and his temperature was going up.

"Katherine, let him be." She was busy tucking the blanket under the side of the bed when Pete moaned; the tightened blanket was putting pressure on his stomach. Thomas pulled a chair next to the bed and made his wife sit down. As he loosened the blanket, Mr. Malloy brushed the back of his hand across Pete's forehead. It felt too warm. "He's alright, you didn't hurt him."

Thomas starting telling her some of what Mac had told him during the night. He focused on the safe topics. He agreed with Mac that Pete wouldn't want his mother to know the dangerous acts he had done to receive his commendations and medals. As she listened to her husband, Katherine kept a tight hold on Pete's hand; almost as if she thought it would keep him from leaving this world. Her persistence paid off when she felt his fingers gripping hers.

"Peter, can you hear me?" Katherine was now standing beside Pete's bed. She stroked his cheek with her free hand; unwilling to let go of his other hand. Leaning close to his ear she spoke softly to her son. It took several minutes before Pete started to stir in response to the voices of both his parents.

"Mom?" All he really wanted was to keep sleeping, but he couldn't ignore the voice that sounded so much like his mother. Why would it be his mother? He didn't think he was in Seattle; it didn't make sense in his pain med fog. Finally, he peeked out from half-opened eyes.

"It's okay. Dad and I are here." The teardrops that kept hitting his face helped to bring him around. Was that other voice his father? What was going on?

"Why…um?" Pete stared up at the two blurry blobs that sounded like his parents. It would help if they would stand still. "Stop." He tried squinting to see if that helped his vision. It didn't.

"Relax son. " Relax? The larger of the two blurry blobs was telling him to relax? Oh no, he wanted answers to several pertinent questions. Maybe sitting up would help? With a cry of pain he fell back against the pillow. If the pain wasn't enough to tell him that moving was a bad idea, the large hand that was now holding him down did.

"Don't move Pete. You're going to make it worse." He tried turning his head towards the voices. His vision was getting better; the smaller blob was wearing glasses.

"Figured…that out." If they weren't going to tell him the important things, why didn't they give up and let him sleep? Since they seemed intent on staying, Pete tried again to get any answer. Due to the morphine, he had no memory of being told what happened.

"Where…what?" his voice trailed off; the lure of sleep was way too strong for him to fight.

"We're right here, next to your bed." Pete would have screamed at them if he had the strength to do it. He could tell they were close because the blobs were looking more people shaped.

"Tired..." Pete closed his eyes again in hopes that the two parent sounding blurs wouldn't bother him anymore. He had questions, a lot of them, but his body refused to cooperate with his brain.

"Katherine, let him sleep. He's had too much pain medicine to make much sense out of anything." Thomas put an arm around his wife's shoulder with the intent of leading her away from the bed. It might have worked if the name hadn't clicked in Pete's foggy brain.

"Mom?" They were back where they started. It was going to be a long day.

Jim waited outside Pete's room in order to give his parents some alone time before the squad car came to take Mr. Malloy to Reed's house. No one agreed with the Malloys' plan to stay at a hotel; Pete's parents would have all their needs taken care of while they were in town. Sally arrived as Pete's dad was leaving. She wasn't in uniform, but he recognized her at once. He had to admit, to himself only, that he approved of his son's taste in women. Thomas Malloy took Sally aside; he had a favor to ask of her.

"Without worrying my wife, would you check on Pete for me? I think something is wrong." He kept his voice low, so that no one else would hear as he told her about Pete's temperature going up. Sally got a funny look in her eyes when he mentioned the blood pressure dropping. She promised to keep an eye on things; Thomas knew she would. Last night, he saw the love in her eyes every time she looked at his son.

There were beads of sweat forming on Pete's forehead. Was he too warm with the blanket covering him up to his neck or was he developing a fever? Greetings were exchanged as Sally made her way to the far side of Pete's bed. She touched his cheek with her left hand when she planted a kiss on his forehead. His body always seemed to be warmer to the touch than hers was, but not by this much. The first step was to pull the blanket and sheet down to his waist. If that was the cause, his temperature should go down.

Sally had barely started taking the covers down when his mother grabbed the same covers; only, she was trying to pull them back up. If the circumstances weren't so grave, Jim would have laughed at the two women playing "tug-of-war" over his sleeping friend. Katherine argued that he needed to be kept warm while Sally pointed out that Pete was sweating and needed the covers removed.

"Put them back, he's cold."

"No, he's sweating. He's too hot."

"He'll catch a cold without them."

"His bandages will get wet."

"STOP!" Jim had heard enough. He was amazed that the two women hadn't torn the covers in half by now. Neither woman seemed willing to give up their hold on the covers.

"You are going to wake him up. Do you want that?" Jim gave them the same stern look that Pete had used on their first night riding together; during the "police car" lecture. "I know you both love Pete, but one of you has to give. I think he's too hot too." Both women let go of the covers; embarrassed by their behavior. "We'll cover him halfway. Alright?"

While Jim fixed Pete's covers, leaving his chest exposed, Sally walked around the bed to sit next to his mother. Apologies were followed by whispers and frequent glares at Jim. They were bonding; this was not a good thing as far as Jim was concerned.

The more patrol officers Thomas met, the more he understood his son's aversion to a third stripe. Pete had managed to earn the respect his position deserved, but was still seen as one of the guys. When he was in the army, Thomas hadn't had the luxury of choosing whether he made sergeant or not. His promotion to sergeant came with an invisible wall between him and his former platoon mates. Some of the comments he heard from Pete's friends made Thomas think that his son could overcome the divide that he hadn't been able to.

It was almost 10 am when he knocked on the Reed's door. Jean answered the door before he finished knocking; she had been expecting him. He was walking in when he saw a small head peek out from behind the door.

"Hello, you must be Jimmy." Thomas smiled at the child and knelt on one knee so that they were eye level. The boy tugged on his mother's skirt and took a step back. When she leaned down, Jimmy whispered to his mother.

"Uncle Pete looks funny." The four-year-old snuck another look at the man. He was definitely leery of the strange version of his Uncle Pete, but his face lit up when is mother explained who the man was.

"Uncle Pete's Daddy, do you want a cookie?" Jimmy offered up half eaten chocolate chip cookie. "We got milk, Uncle Pete's Daddy." Jean picked her son up and invited Thomas into the kitchen for milk and cookies. "Uncle Pete's Daddy" answered all the boy's questions during their snack. Despite being well past tired, Thomas couldn't refuse Jimmy's invitation to play cars. On the way to Jimmy's room, Thomas saw all the pictures hanging in the hallway, many of which had Pete in them; his son really does have a family down here.

In an attempt to get the women on his side, Jim went down to the cafeteria for coffee and donuts. He did get a warm welcome when he returned with the goodies. Jim, Sally and Katherine talked about everything but the events of the last day and a half. It was during this conversation that Jim finally learned what had been behind the flirting between Sally and Pete that he witnessed in the ER. Was Sally going to be the one that finally got Pete to wear a wedding ring?

A nurse came into the room to check on Pete. She took his temperature by sticking the silver end of the thermometer in Pete's armpit. This intrigued Jim; he had never seen someone take a person's temperature that way. It was strange, but considering the alternative, Jim was glad the nurse chose the less invasive method. All three watched as the nurse took Pete's blood pressure and rechecked his temperature. Before they could ask about it the nurse gave them a half-smile.

"Don't worry, it's only a little fever."


	16. Chapter 16

After the nurse left, Sally took a look at Pete's chart. His temperature had gone down once he started the second antibiotic, but it has been steadily growing higher; it was now 101.7 degrees. His blood pressure had dropped to from 110/70 to 70/55 over the last three hours.

"That's not good, is it?" Jim was reading the chart over Sally's shoulder. Katherine Malloy had, at the mention of a fever, taken her rosary beads out of her purse and was already on the second set of "Hail Marys".

"No, it isn't." Sally push the call button; asking the nurse to come into the room. The poor woman had barely entered when Sally started in on her. "Have you called Dr. Franks about Officer Malloy's vitals?"

"I haven't spoken to Dr. Franks. He usually does his rounds after 3, so it won't be long before he's here." The nurse, a new hire who didn't know Sally, grabbed Pete's chart out of Sally's hands. "You shouldn't be looking at that; only the medical staff is supposed to read that."

"She is medical staff and she thinks we need to call Pete's surgeon." Jim's emotions were all over the field. He was mad as hell at Pete for risking his life, yet he was terrified that he would never get to thank his friend for being willing to sacrifice that life to save Jimmy.

"I'm sorry sir, but I". Whatever she meant to say was cut off by Sally.

"He can't wait three or four hours to see Dr. Franks. Call him now or I will call him." Sally went full into 'head nurse' mode. "If I have to do it, the next call I make will be to Shirley Hayes, the Director of Nursing, to report your failure to act swiftly on a patient who is obviously getting worse." The young nurse said "yes, Ma'am", before going to make the call.

"Jim, would you please call Peter's priest? " Sally's assertion that her son was getting worse, spurred Mrs. Malloy to make the request; she wanted Pete to have the Last Rites.

"I can probably get Father Joe to come." Technically, he wasn't Pete's Priest, but his church was in their district. Jim was surprised to find out that Pete had become friends with the soft-spoken cleric. "He's over at St. John's."

"Is that Peter's church? He never told me where he went to mass." The only time Jim had ever seen Pete in church, other than the occasional odd call, was when Jimmy was baptized. In order to be Jimmy's godfather Pete had somehow gotten a letter confirming that he was a Catholic in good standing; at the time, Jim hadn't thought to question how his friend managed to get the letter. It didn't matter; Father Joe would certainly come if they asked. "He's a friend of Pete's. I'll go call him now."

Pete's nurse returned to apologize to Sally and to say that Dr. Franks will be in to see Pete in twenty minutes. The nurse worked quickly, taking a blood sample and checking the status of the blood transfusion. She left, skirting past Jim when he opened the door.

"Father Joe will be over as soon as he can." Talking about the priest jolted Jim's memory. He pulled a St. Michael's medal on a gold chain from his pocket; offering it to Pete's mom. "I forgot. Jean found this medal on Pete's key ring and put it on a chain for you." Mrs. Malloy didn't hesitate to place the chain around her son's neck. Jim thought it looked strange on Pete, but if his mother felt better with Pete wearing it, he wouldn't mention it to her. The truth was that he felt useless. Katherine was praying, Sally was touching Pete's arm while whispering in his ear and Jim was standing there looking out the window. He didn't realize that Sally and Katherine found his quiet, steady presence comforting.

Dr. Franks arrived with two nurses, a tray full of bandages, another pint of blood, several syringes, something to clean the wounds and a smaller bottle of IV fluids. He was five minutes early and yet, he apologized for the delay in arriving.

"I know this looks like a lot, but I think it's better to be prepared. I need to check the surgical sites to see if the fever is coming from one of them. That means I need the bandages on the tray." Franks was reading Pete's chart while he spoke. "There are a few possible reasons for Pete's blood pressure falling; most of which are an easy fix. "I'll know more after I examine him."

At the doctor's request, the trio left the room to wait outside. No one ventured far from the door.

xxxxx

Captain Val Moore hated the press, not personally, but as a group they were less than desirable. He tugged on the stiff collar of his uniform. He had forgotten how uncomfortable LAPD "Dress Blues" were. Both those things were preferable to what he was about to do. Chief Davis had ordered this press conference, but it was up to Moore to brief the press on the series of events that began with the shooting of Pete Malloy and ended with Tony Johnson's death. Only, they weren't over. The life of Pete Malloy, his trainee and friend, was still at risk.

The criminal conduct that led to Tony Johnson being sent to prison was laid out in detail; nothing was said of the commendations Johnson had earned during his time on the force. The Captain stressed that Malloy had no involvement in those crimes, save for exposing them. He followed that up with the highlights of Pete's career; the commendations and his Medals of Valor. Moore kept up a professional demeanor, but anyone who knew him well heard the catch in his voice when he briefed them on the actual shooting and the actions Pete took to protect the unnamed boy. Val spoke of the courage involved in Pete's decision to intentionally force Tony into shooting him and confirmed reports that Pete was in critical condition. The actions of the SWAT team, the young mother and the pawn shop owner's bravery were praised.

Moore shook his head when he left the podium. All this would be old news tomorrow; never to be mentioned again, unless Pete died.

xxxxx

He had no choice. Dr. Franks had ordered one nurse to start the blood running through the blood pump while the other one injected Ephedrine into Pete's IV. It was the doctor's hope that the drug and the transfusion would sufficiently raise Pete's blood pressure.

"I don't want to do this." The doctor picked up the syringe filled with a version of ramazicon; a drug used to counteract sedatives and narcotics. Pete's blood pressure was still too low which meant that the sedative and morphine were contributing to the problem. "Would one of you ask his partner to come in here? It might be better for him to see a friendly face when he wakes up." Franks injected the stimulant into Pete's vein.

Jim wasn't sure why they suddenly wanted him in there with Pete, but he didn't hesitate to go. A large part of him thought they called him in there to break the news to him; Pete was dead.

The beeping of the heart machine went a long way to stem Jim's fears. Everything looked the same, but if they were, the doctor wouldn't have called him in. He slowly made his way to his friend's right side; that was where he belonged. Jim placed a supportive hand on Pete's shoulder as he braced himself for whatever the doctor had to tell him.

"In order to raise Pete's blood pressure, I had to give him a reversal drug. That means that very soon, your friend will be awake and non-medicated while I check his wounds. It might be better if you were here for him." Jim nodded; nothing could drag him from Pete's side now.

Doctor Franks worked as fast as it was safely possible. The last thing he wanted was to miss the beginning of an infection. He was examining the wound on Pete's stomach when his patient began to stir. Jim tightened his grip on Pete's shoulder when his partner took a gasping breath. Clearly Pete was in severe pain; his eyes were shut tight, his body trembling.

"Don't move Partner. You'll only make it worse." Pete reached a hand out towards the voice; nodding in response to the cautionary word. Jim grabbed Pete's right hand with his own. "I know it hurts, but the doctor needs to check your stomach. Look at me Pete."

"Hold him still. I have to sterilize the suture line before I can have the nurse put a bandage back on." Franks could have ordered the nurse to clean the wound, but not with a conscious patient. Hurting patients isn't what any of them signed up for.

"Partner, look at me. Focus on me, not on the pain." Slowly, Pete opened his eyes and turned his head to meet Jim's eyes. His breathing was shallow and fast, teeth clenched but he was trying to control the trembling. "Let me help you."

"I'm trying." Pete's grip on Jim's hand suddenly tightened when Dr. Franks began to sterilize the suture line. "Talk…say something."

"Uh…you're at Central Receiving." Geesh, he's counting on my help and I say something stupid. Jim silently berated himself as he tried to decide what to tell Pete.

"Figured that out...myself." It was taking all Pete had to keep himself from crying out in pain; at the moment he had little patience for dumb.

"Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say." Jim hemmed and hawed. "It's a long story. I don't know where to start."

"I don't care…try the middle." Jim couldn't keep from chuckling a little. Pete was giving him the "can you possibly be that dumb" look. It was the same one Pete gave him, on their first night riding together, when he couldn't properly clear them to begin the PM watch.

"In the middle, are you sure you want me to start there?" Jim wondered if the reversal drug didn't cancel out all the pain meds.

"Yeah, it'll add...to my confusion." No one had ever accused Pete of being a good patient. His grip on Jim's hand eased up when the doctor finished swabbing the sutures in his stomach.

Dr. Franks chuckled; he had to admire a person in that much pain still having the presence of mind to be sarcastic. He asked a nurse to put a bandage on Pete's stomach while he checked on Pete's leg.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Jim was keeping an eye on what the doctor was doing so he knew instantly that something was wrong. Doctor Franks nodded when he saw Jim watching him; the leg wound was infected. "Tell me the last thing, Pete." Jim's intent was to distract Pete, but his partner's answer distracted him.

"Uh…images...wine, a lot...Sally…small bed..." Pete was definitely still a little confused; he would never have said that if he knew what he was saying. Jim blushed for Pete.

"I don't need the details." Pete's grip on Jim's hand tightened, his body arched and he cried out in pain. Dr. Franks had started cleaning the leg wound. Jim was desperate to keep Pete's attention on something other than the pain. "Tony Johnson."

"Tony? What about Tony?" He got Pete's attention; the confusion in his eyes was gone. His breathing was becoming more labored; he was fighting the pain.

"Jim, hold him down." Doctor Franks also told a nurse to hold onto Pete's leg. "The wound is infected. I need him still while I flush it with a saline solution. This is going to hurt."

"Tony was the one who shot you." Jim's left hand was squeezing Pete's good one; Pete's body jerked, almost causing Jim to lose his grip on the shoulder. "At my house; he saw you playing 'kick the ball' with Jimmy. He grabbed…"

"Jimmy? Is he alright?" Jim was sure that Pete would jump out of bed if he could. "If Tony hurt him…"

"Jimmy's fine. You saved his life…and mine." There was an undercurrent of anger in his voice; one that Pete caught despite the pain.

"Are you mad at...Tony or me?" Pete couldn't keep himself from crying out when Dr. Franks used a large syringe to inject the saline solution into the bullet hole. "Well?" Pete almost shouted at his friend; he wanted answers.

"Tony, well…mostly Tony." The partners had never lied to one another. Jim didn't intend to tell Pete how mad he was until Pete was doing better.

"That's what…I thought. What the hell…did I do; other than…getting shot?" Between the reversal drug and the rush of adrenalin that came with the pain, Pete was fully awake and lucid. His speech was interrupted by sharp intakes of air. Franks finished one flush of the wound and started another. This time there was no cry of pain; the fact that Jim was mad at him helped Pete to focus on something other than what Franks was doing.

"It doesn't matter. I'll tell you later." All the emotions of the last few days were still working on Jim. Yelling at Pete now made no sense; Jim knew that and still he raised his voice.

"Since I can't remember…a damn thing that happened…maybe you should wait…before yelling at me." Franks watched the friends staring each other down like they were two rams fighting over a ewe.

"Gentlemen, I am finished. The new antibiotic and sterilizing the wound should buy us a day or two before we have to operate." He turned towards Pete. "I'll have the nurse give you a smaller dose of morphine, since your blood pressure is up." Franks turned to glare at Jim. "I'm not sure if his BP is up because of what _I did_ or if it's the result of you making him mad, but either way, stop. This isn't good for your friend. Let him rest." Franks exited the room and nodded to Sally and Pete's mom.

"They're all yours ladies."


	17. Chapter 17

"I'm sorry Pete." Having said that, Jim Reed blew out of the room; leaving behind Sally and Mrs. Malloy to wonder what was going on. If they had kept close to the door, they would have heard the yelling, but after the first time Pete cried out in pain, Sally made his mother move out of earshot.

"What was that about?" Both women were now in Pete's room and they wanted answers.

"Jim's mad at me." Pete had spoken so softly that Sally almost missed his answer to her question. It was obvious that Pete was very disturbed by whatever had happened in the ICU room. "I'm not sure why."

"How much do you remember about the shooting?" Sally knew what Jim was mad about, but Mac had told all of them to not tell Pete what happened; they needed his untainted statement.

"Nothing, the last thing I'm sure of is saying goodbye to you." While Pete was unsure of a lot of things, he did know what not to say in front of his mother. Mentioning that he said goodbye after breakfast would not help Katherine's opinion of Sally. "Is he mad because I let Tony get to Jimmy?" Sally quirked a brow at that question: where did that come from? "Jim said I was playing ball with Jimmy when Tony got to him."

"No Pete. You couldn't have prevented that. I can't tell you the details, but you didn't know that Tony had broken out of prison." Sally hoped that would ease Pete's concern, but it didn't. She confirmed that he let Tony get Jimmy.

A nurse entered the room to give Pete an injection of morphine. After that, Pete closed his eyes and shutdown; he wanted time to think. Not only had he let down Jim and Jean, he failed to protect Jimmy. There were no comforting words that would convince him otherwise.

"I'll be back." Sally intended to find Jim and give him a piece of her mind, but before that, she leaned close to Pete and whispered in his ear: "You may be able to fool your mother, but I know what you are doing, Mister."

xxxxx

Jean was on her way to grab Jimmy so that Pete's dad could get some sleep when the doorbell rang. She fervently hoped that it wasn't a reporter; those who knew Pete also knew Jim and wanted information from him. This must be the day for strange callers. First it was Mrs. O'Brian and now Judy was here pushing her way into the Reed's living room.

"I'm sorry to barge in, but I need your help. They won't let me see Pete." The term "fat chance" came to Jean's mind. She agreed with the decision to keep Judy out of Pete's room.

"Pete's in protective custody, you know that limits the visitors to a list. They only let you in the last time because you two were together." For the time being, Jean was keeping her opinion of Judy and the way she behaved with Sally to herself.

"We are together. Didn't he tell you?" Was Judy delusional or on drugs? Jean was having a hard time figuring this answer out.

"I know you spoke with Sally. She and Pete have been together for months." Jean started to pull the door open again. "What are you trying to pull?"

"I know he sees her, but it's me he loves. He promised to stop cheating on me." Before Jean could respond to that outrageous claim, another voice broke into the conversation.

"That's a lie." Thomas Malloy had come out when he heard the doorbell; in case it was someone from the police department with news about his son. "Pete has never cheated on anyone in his life."

"I don't know why you're accusing Pete of cheating, but I agree with Thomas. Pete isn't capable of doing that." The last thing Judy expected was to face two irate family members.

"He was dating other women when we first went out." That was true to a point, but Jean saw it for the half-truth it was. She wasn't above pointing this out to Judy.

"Pete is _a flirt_ and he has dated more than one woman at a time, but he never made a secret of that fact. They all knew. Once he became serious about someone, he broke it off with the others." Jean was more than a little confused by Judy's actions. Did she want Pete back bad enough to lie or was there something else going on?

"What's your game? Pete didn't explain to us why he stopped seeing you, but he told us that he broke it off months ago." Jean was fascinated by Pete's father. They looked alike, but Thomas seemed to have a little less patience than his son. Then again, she had never seen Pete deal with anything like this.

"I love him. Let me see him and he'll tell you that we belong together." As she said this, Judy made a strange move; she ran her hand lovingly over the lower half of her torso. Jean was about to lash out over the situation hinted at by that move. She was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll talk to Pete. For now, I think you need to leave." Thomas escorted Judy to her car while Jean watched from the door. She had to ask him about what he thought about Judy's claim.

"You don't believe what she was implying by the move, do you?" Thomas couldn't help but chuckle, Jean was more riled up in defense of his son than he was; his son was lucky to have friends like her and Jim.

"Not for a second."

xxxxx

Forty-five minutes of searching the hospital did nothing to improve Sally's temper. She was about to give up and go back to the ICU when she got an idea. Mac had found Jim on the roof while Pete was in surgery; if he hid up there once, maybe he was there again. She found Jim standing by the low wall that ran around the edge of the roof. looking down on the street.

"Don't let me stop you. Go ahead and jump." She couldn't get the dejected look on Pete's face after Jim left the ICU. Not only was Jim not supposed to say anything about what happened in the backyard, but he left Pete blaming himself for Tony getting to Jimmy. "It will give Pete one more thing to blame himself for."

How's he doing?" Jim couldn't bring himself to meet Sally eyes; he looked almost as bad as Pete did. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking like an eight-year old caught stealing cookies.

"Lousy. How would feel if someone made you think that you had almost gotten Jimmy killed? He loves that boy more than life." Sally was making no attempt to hide her anger. Jim knew Pete well enough to realize that Pete would blame himself.

"I didn't tell him that." This stuck Sally as a very weak denial. She quickly closed the distance between them.

"You told him that he was with Jimmy when Tony grabbed him." She glared up at him with eyes cold enough to freeze a penguin mid-step. "Pete's not stupid; obviously Jimmy was in danger if Pete got himself shot five times."

"Telling him that Tony shot him was the only way to distract him from the pain. Didn't you hear him yell when Dr. Franks cleaned out his leg wound?" Jim had actually been praying that the morphine would make Pete forget what he was told.

"Did you see the look on his face when you left? I came after you because Pete was so upset that he gave up." She paused a moment for Jim to understand. "He deflated; he's letting his mother think the pain meds made him sleep."

"Why didn't you tell him that it wasn't his fault?" As bad as Jim felt about what he said and Pete's reaction to him, he wasn't sure what he could do to fix it. He wasn't allowed to tell Pete what happened in the backyard.

"I did, but he didn't believe me. You need to go back down there and tell him that you are mad at him for getting himself shot protecting Jimmy." With Tony dead, Sally didn't see any reason to keep the details from Pete. "He deserves to hear that from you."

xxxxx

His failure to protect Jimmy was all Pete was thinking about. As far as he was concerned there was no excuse for it; he broke a promise he made at Jimmy's Baptism. The memory loss was also frustrating him.

"Peter, are you alright?" Katherine Malloy expected to be worrying about Pete's physical injuries, not about his feelings. She recognized the look on her son's face; it was the one he got when he was beating himself up over something.

"I guess the dream I had about talking to Pops wasn't a dream. How did you know about this?" Pete really didn't want to talk about what Jim had said to him; not until he remembered what happened at Reed's house.

"Sergeant McDonald called us after your surgery. Tell me about Jimmy." Katherine knew that her son usually let things go by without dwelling on them, but every once in a while, he took something hard. It didn't take a genius to know that Pete was blaming himself for what happened.

"He's a great kid…I love him Mom." With her left hand, Katherine brushed back the tuft of hair on his forehead, like she did when he was a kid.

"I met him. He seems to think that you hung the moon." Without answering her, Pete tried to do what he did when he was a kid and needed to shut someone out; he tried to turn his back to his mother. Pete didn't get far before he gasped in pain and lay flat on the bed again.

"Stay still. You'll hurt yourself again. Sally's right. You aren't responsible for Tony grabbing Jimmy."

"I really don't want to talk about it." Since he seemed to be wearing his medal, Pete sent a prayer to St. Michael, asking his help. Until he remembered what happened in the Reed's back yard, he couldn't accept the reassurances of others; not even from his mother.

"It's not your fault. You saved Jimmy." Kaatherine agreed with Sally's objection to keeping Pete from knowing what happened. It made no sense to keep Pete feeling guilty.

"Mom, please don't try to make me feel better. It doesn't matter if I did save Jimmy, because I put him in danger in the first place." Pete stared at the ceiling, refusing to look at his mother. It was then when one of the nurses came in to check Pete's vitals; causing Katherine to step back. She told them that he still had a fever, but that his blood pressure was normal. Before either Pete or his mother could ask questions, the nurse injected a sedative into his IV port. Their protests made little difference to the situation. While it was a milder sedative than Pete was on before, it still knocked him out.

Katherine pulled a chair to Pete's bedside and returned to her rosary beads.


	18. Chapter 18

Rock concerts were, to Sergeant MacDonald, worse than a swarm of bees; at least the bees presented only one danger. Currently, the day long festival had sent four officers to the hospital with various injuries. Mac was told to call in every off-duty officer he could find. The sergeant had planned to spend his day off staying close to Pete and his family, in case they needed him. Instead, he was calling the hospital to have not only one of the officers guarding Pete come into work, but Jim Reed too. Only a direct order from Captain Moore could make Mac pull Jim away from Pete's bedside. He might have to call Jim in, but he would vigorously defend Reed if he didn't.

Mac sat at the watch commander's desk rubbing his temples. The minor headache he had this morning was nothing compared to the one he had now. He silently cursed every concert attendee and that included his own son. The stream of curses stopped when there was a knock on the door. One look up and Mac's head split: Greene was knocking with one hand and keeping the other one on the arm of a short, elderly lady who was carrying a tray of cookies. Mac cast a scowl towards heaven and waved them in.

"I'm sorry to bother you Sarge, but Wells and I caught this lady trying to sneak in from the parking lot door. She says it's extremely important that she be allowed to speak with you." Greene shrugged an apology and quickly departed; anyone who recognized the fury in Mac's eyes would have run faster than a speeding rollercoaster.

"Mrs. O'Brian, why are you trespassing on my station and with a tray of cookies to boot?" This was the wrong time to try Mac's patience.

"They're for you, and the other officers. It's my way to apologize for all the trouble I gave you at the hospital." The old woman appeared contrite as she held the tray of cookies towards Mac and moved to stand in front of the desk.

"Thank you. Please put them on the desk. I'm sure the officers will appreciate them." Even as he thanked her, Mac was already waiting for her to play her cards; he had too much experience with her to trust that this was a sincere peace offering.

"Don't forget to give some to those kind officers who are standing guard over Pete's room." She smiled sweetly and kept her pocketbook under her arm. "They're freshly baked. Maybe I could take some to those nice gentlemen taking care of Pete. What are their names?"

"There's no need for that. I'll set some of them aside and give them to the officers when they return to the station." He was leery enough of the old woman that he withheld the names of the officers guarding Pete's room. Referring to them by name might give her the idea to use them as a way of saying that he approved of her seeing Pete.

"It's hard standing there all day. They deserve fresh cookies …and coffee too." Mrs. O'Brian was currently inching her way towards the edge of the desk.

"You can bake all the cookies you want and I still will not give permission for you to see Pete. He's too shaky for anyone but family to see him." Mac took a file from his "in" box; essentially dismissing Mrs. O'Brian.

"I can help his parents deal with their worry. You have to let me see them." She made no mention of the conversation she had had with Pete's mother at Reed's house. It wouldn't help her case.

"No. Now please leave before I call an officer to escort you out of the building." After a brief glance at her, Mac went back to the report he was trying to read.

"You would throw out an old woman? I thought police were supposed to be kind to the public." Funny thing, she still had not put the tray of cookies down.

"Yes." Mac waved to Officer Williams, who was outside the office waiting to talk to him. When Williams entered MacDonald told him to get Mrs. O'Brian out of his office and the building. "I'm being kind by letting you leave. Now, go."

"Mac Beith." As she cursed Mac in Gaelic, Mrs. O'Brian upended the _uncovered_ tray of cookies into his lap. Williams, wisely, took her by the arm and escorted her out of the station. MacDonald examined the damage to his formally, clean uniform.

"They would be Chocolate chip; what's wrong with a simple sugar cookie?"

xxxxx

Jim felt terrible after Sally left. She was right to be angry with him; he was angry at himself. There was no excuse for what he did to Pete. His head was filled with so many contrary emotions: worry, anger, gratitude, guilt, fear and love. He stood on the rooftop and prayed. It wasn't a formal prayer, more like a conversation. Jim's first question was related to all those emotions; how could love cause so much harm to so many? Was all that happened part of some wayward version of a divine plan? The only real answer Jim got was the knowledge that he needed to make things right with Pete, before it was too late.

After a quick phone call to the station, Jim went to Pete's room. In a way, it would have been better if the officer guarding the door wasn't a friend of Pete's. Instead it was Bill Walters who, in a protective move, shifted to the side, blocking the door to Pete's room. It took a few minutes before Jim was able to convince Walters that he was going to fix things with Pete. Jim wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and knocked softly. Sally hesitated but she let Jim into the room. Then he insisted that Sally and Pete's mom should go to the cafeteria while he sat with Pete. Jim stood by the window, keeping an eye on his sleeping friend.

"You better not die before I get to apologize for being an ass." He wasn't expecting an answer to what he said. Jim kept fiddling with his wedding band; turning it around and around. It was Pete who first recognized that as a sign that something was bothering him.

"If I die, you will still be an ass." Pete had been playing possum with his mother and Sally. He wanted to have peace and quiet while he struggled to remember anything about what happened. Add to that the fact that nothing anyone of them could say would help to calm his guilty feelings.

"I thought you were asleep." Both Sally and Pete's mom warned Jim to not wake him up, citing the fact that Pete was given a sedative less than two hours ago.

"_No shit_ Sherlock; you were wrong, again." Pete wasn't giving Jim any slack. Anger was far easier to show; Pete preferred to keep his banged up feelings to himself. Who gets mad at their best friend when that friend saves your son's life? Pete was expecting Jim to make excuses for his anger.

"I came here to apologize to you for what I said before. The last thing you needed this morning was me upsetting you." In that phone call to the station, Jim told Mac that he would try to rid Pete of his guilty feelings. If he had to give Pete the details of the shooting, he would.

"Apologize? For what… for upsetting me, or for laying the blame on me?" The last thing Pete wanted was an apology; it wouldn't heal the hole in his soul. Pete used his right hand to point to the door to his room. "If those are your intentions, there's the door. I'm fine without you." He wasn't fine; he knew it and so did Jim. However, there wasn't a chance in hell that Pete would admit how much what Jim had said hurt him. It wasn't even the words themselves, but what they meant that counted.

"No, I mean yes. I wanted to wait until you were stronger before I spoke to you." In all the time he knew Pete, Jim had never seen him this unsettled. There was definitely anger in his friend's eyes, but it was what Jim saw under the anger that he was most concerned about; Pete was tearing himself apart inside. On their first night together, Jim saw some of that in Pete's eyes when he spoke about his partner dying. Pete had never admitted it to him, but Jim knew that a part of Pete still blamed himself for Baxter's death.

"Why? Shouldn't I know before I die that I screwed up and almost got Jimmy killed?" There was one advantage to being in extreme pain; it cleared your head, but it was taking all Pete's physical strength to keep the shakiness out of his voice. The only thing he really wanted was a large dose of morphine and to be left alone.

"You didn't screw up Pete. I'm sorry I let you think that." Jim moved away from the window and went to Pete's bedside. He lightly touched Pete's good shoulder. "I'm not mad at you because Tony grabbed Jimmy. There is no way you could have prevented it. Trust me, I'll tell you how that happened another time.

"I don't remember enough to know if that's true or not, but if it is, then why are you mad at me?" Despite Jim's assurance, he couldn't totally believe it wasn't his fault until he remembered it for himself.

"I'm mad at you for getting yourself shot five times. Understand?" Jim ran a hand through his hair. It was a gesture he caught from Pete and he saw it as a sign of how upset Jim was with him.

"No. Look, I'm tired and in pain so can you just spit it out?" Pete's breathing was becoming labored and Jim thought the heart monitor's beats were speeding up. Jim pushed the call button; Pete needed his pain, if not more, taken care of.

"You made yourself a target and forced Tony to shoot you in order to give me a chance to get Jimmy away from him. You didn't wait to see if I could find a better way to do that." Now that he told Pete, he needed him to understand why Jim was mad at him. "You chose to die for Jimmy as if your life doesn't matter."

"Who would you rather lose me or Jimmy?" Pete knew what Jim's answer was going to be. As much as he means to Jim, Jimmy means more. That's the way it should be. Didn't Jim understand that?

"This isn't about choosing between you and Jimmy. It's about you dying when the shooting might have been avoided." Jim started to pace the length of the room. "Do you think I want you to sacrifice yourself?"

"No, I know you wouldn't approve of me sacrificing my life, but wasn't it my choice to make?" Pete was still trying to wrap his head around the "fact" that he had intended to die. What had Tony said to him before Jim got there and had he been using Jimmy as a shield? He slammed a fist down on the mattress. It wasn't much of a slam, but it was the only tangible action he could physically make to express his frustration.

"No! It should have been _our_ choice. I was armed, you weren't. Maybe I could have come up with a way to get Jimmy free without you getting shot, but you didn't let me." Like Pete, Jim was looking for something to hit. "That's why I'm mad."

"I'm sorry Jim. I don't remember any of it. What I do know is that I would only cut you out of the decision, if I knew there was no other way to get Jimmy out of danger. I would also do that if I knew there wasn't time to wait. Besides, dying to save Jimmy will always be my choice." Pete closed his eyes as a wave of pain went through his body; causing his body to stiffen. "Even if the doctor told me that I was going to die tonight, I still wouldn't take that decision back. If you want to be mad at me for that, go right ahead but it's your fault."

"My fault, how do you figure that?"

"You made me his Godfather." Pete grinned up at his partner. Forgiveness, by both men, was silently agreed to.

The nurse must have had the pain medication ready before Jim rang for her. She came quickly and injected a large dose of morphine into Pete's IV port; adding that the doctor would be in to see Pete soon. As he gave himself over to the drug running through his veins Pete said one more thing.

"Jimmy's worth it."

Jim left shortly after Pete's mom and Sally returned. He would have preferred to stay, but he felt that he had to go into work. Not because he wanted to, but because he knew that Mac went out on a limb by letting him have the time to talk to Pete. Dr. Franks had come by to check on Pete. He was pleased with Pete's progress; his blood pressure had stayed up and his temperature was half a degree above normal. When Mrs. Malloy expressed concern over that half degree the doctor assured her that, according to his records, 99.1 was normal for Pete. The one thing he couldn't guarantee her was that Pete was out of danger.


	19. Chapter 19

Crying relatives were more common in the Emergency Room than in most areas of the hospital. That being true, Sally had a lot of experience dealing with distraught mothers. The difference this time was that she felt like joining in the crying. It had been over four hours since Jim left. In all that time, Pete had not woken up; not even when Dr. Franks had examined him. He also slept though Father Joe's administering the Last Rites. Neither woman saw that as a good sign. Other than handing Pete's mom a tissue, Sally wasn't sure what to do. How much had Pete told his mother about their relationship?

"When he was a child, I would sit for hours watching him sleep. Thomas had made me a rocker when Peter was born." Katherine paused to wipe her eyes. "I kept it in his room even though he didn't need me to nurse him anymore."

"He always reminds me of a little boy when he sleeps." It wasn't until Katherine looked up at her, that Sally realized that she might have said too much. Better fix that. "Pete has a tendency to fall asleep on the couch after dinner. He looks so cute that I hate to wake him up."

"His father does that too." Katherine wasn't above fishing for information about her son. Surely Peter wasn't doing _that _with Sally. "I usually cover him with an afghan and let him sleep."

"If I did that, he'd sleep on the couch all night." Sally smiled down at the older woman; time to put her mind at rest. "I wouldn't mind him sleeping on the couch all night, except….well; he snores so loud that I can hear him from my bedroom."

"He isn't snoring now." Sally hadn't thought about that until Katherine said it; Pete should be snoring if he was only sleeping. At least she thought he should be, but reassuring mothers was part of her job. Neither woman paid much attention to the tech who took another blood sample from Pete.

"The pain medicine can cause people to stop snoring. I wouldn't worry about it." Calming Katherine's fears was far easier than calming her own. They were by his bed and making no attempt to keep their conversation quiet; why hadn't he woken up yet?

xxxxx

Jimmy was having fun; so was Thomas. Jean had made two attempts to take Jimmy away from Pete's dad; she knew he had been up all night and needed to get some sleep. Both tries were answered with strong protests. She was about to grab Jimmy and force them apart when she realized something. When Pete was four, like Jimmy was now, his father was stationed overseas. Almost as if he was reading her mind, Thomas looked up.

"I never got to play with Pete when he was this age. He was three when I was drafted and seven when I came home. I missed so much of his growing up." Thomas and Jimmy were on their hands and knees pushing matchbox cars around a track. It was hard to tell who was having the most fun: Jimmy or Thomas. "You gave my son a wonderful gift when you made him Jimmy's Godfather."

Not content to keep running the cars around the track, Jimmy wanted to play "Crash the cars". This game consisted of sending their cars headlong into each other. She had a very clear memory of Pete playing the very same game with Jimmy on the boy's birthday. The third time Jean checked on the two of them, Thomas was lying on the ground and "bench pressing" Jimmy. Thomas' request for another ten minutes was echoed by her son, who had no concept of time.

Jean was cleaning the bathroom when she noticed that the laughter, giggling and the occasional squeal had stopped. Mothers learn very quickly that a suddenly quiet child was usually getting into something they weren't supposed to. In this case, she didn't have to worry; Thomas was lying on his back on the rug with Jimmy's head on his shoulder. Both were sound asleep.

xxxxx

Officers Percy and Kovacs were standing guard on either side of Pete's door; it was considered an honor to guard a fellow officer when they were unable to protect themselves. Even though Tony was dead, there was still a chance that he had friends who would want to finish what he started. Well-meaning friends were also kept from entering. Dr. Franks didn't want his patient disturbed.

The two officers took note of the orderly delivering blankets to each room, but didn't consider him a threat. He had a valid hospital ID and was therefore allowed to bring a blanket into Pete's room. It might have worked if Sally hadn't been in the room. She smiled and shook her head at the young man.

"Larry, you know that you're not allowed in here." Larry Ciprio, a part-time orderly, had been a star player on the basketball team that Pete coached. Now that he was older, he dedicated some of his free time helping the kids on the current roster. "I should have you thrown out but I know how worried all of you are about him."

Whatever Larry had been expecting, he was clearly shocked at Pete's appearance. The man lying in that bed bore little resemblance to the "Coach" he knew. Pale and covered in bandages, Pete barely seemed to be alive. Suddenly, Larry put the blanket he was carrying on the bed and took a step back towards the door; unsure if he could face his fears. Sally picked up the trophy that had been wrapped in the blanket. "Larry?"

"The awards ceremony was held last night. We, the team that is, wanted the Coach to have that. It's because of him that we won the championship." Sally was about to respond when Mrs. Malloy spoke up; she had been sitting in a corner praying.

"I'll take that." Katherine Malloy placed the gold trophy on the nightstand beside her son's bed. "My son has told me about his team and how proud he is of all of you."

"We're lucky he's our coach. Man, he's the best." Larry paused, not quite sure what else to say. "He'll be okay Ma'am. The Coach is tough."

Sally took the young man aside in order to give him some information about Pete's condition. Larry's eyes never left Pete although he had started to shake as he listened to Sally. It all sounded so much worse than the reports on the news. While the two of them spoke, a blood tech came into the room. She took another blood sample and left without a word.

"Is Coach going to die?" Larry kept his voice low so that Mrs. Malloy wouldn't hear the question, but he needed an answer.

"I hope not. Leave me a phone number and I'll call you if anything changes."

An hour later, Dr. Franks and a female doctor came into Pete's room. This time, Sally and Katherine refused to leave while the doctors examined Pete, but they promised to stay out of the way. A nurse came into the room to hang another blood transfusion. Dr. Joyce Rinaldi was checking the bullet hole in Pete's right thigh while Dr. Franks probed Pete's abdomen. At one point in the exam, Pete cried out in pain and Sally knew. The words she barely heard now fell into place: low red blood cell count, unconscious, blood in the urine, sepsis and internal bleeding. Dr. Rinaldi got on the phone, ordering an operating room and four more pints of blood.

Dr. Franks came over to the two women. Sally was supporting Mrs. Malloy, but she wasn't all that steady on her feet either. Oddly, Dr. Franks didn't seem to be able to keep up a professional front about Pete's condition. He had come to admire not only Pete but his family and friends; you can tell a lot about a person by the people who love them.

"I'm sorry. We had hoped to hold off on removing the bullet in his leg until he was more stable, but we've run out of time. The last three blood tests show signs of the infection getting worse. More importantly, Pete appears to be bleeding into his abdomen. This sometimes happens naturally after the type of injury he had; a weakness can develop that doesn't show up during the first surgery. He might have caused a small rupture by moving. Whatever the reason, we'll be operating on him as soon as possible. You might want to call the others to come in."

Mrs. Malloy refused to leave her son's side, instead asking Sally to make the necessary phone calls. Dr. Franks had encouraged Katherine to speak to her son, insisting that many unconscious patients can hear, if not respond to, voices. She held his hand in her much smaller one.

"Dad will be here soon. Sally went to call everyone; just in case." She made no attempt to wipe away the tears welling up in her eyes. "You can't leave us, Peter, you can't. There's so many things that your father and I don't know about you. The least you should have done was to tell us about your promotions." If he was capable of laughing, Pete would be. He felt like death warmed over and his mother was chastising him? Katherine reached out to pull the blanket up to his neck.

"How many times have I begged you to get a different job? You can move home and work on the farm; run the orchard. You could even get a job at Boeing, but no, you have to be the hero, don't you?" She had started pacing "Wasn't it Father Donahue who told you that it wasn't your job to protect the world?"

"Ahem." Sally didn't want to interrupt Pete's mother's ranting but the orderlies were ready to take him to the operating room. Katherine leaned down to kiss Pete's forehead. "I love you son. Please don't die."

Sally kissed Pete on the lips. "Remember. You promised." The two women stood in the doorway watching the gurney disappear into the operating suite. "You really are in love with my son, aren't you?" There was only one answer to that question.

"Always."


	20. Chapter 20

It felt wrong. Captain Val Moore had been in catacombs that were more alive than the hallways in Central Division were today. Two and a half days ago, the volume in the station was in overload as the officers and staff learned about Pete; the physical damage included a broken phone cord, four dented locker doors and one shattered door glass. The silence came later, along with the fear. Any time an officer gets seriously hurt, it hits the others on their watch harder. It was different with Pete. For one thing, he spent his whole career at the division, the majority of it on patrol. After over twelve years, Pete had worked with almost every officer who had a connection to Central; most of which he could call a friend.

More important was the nature of his actions. Pete did what other officers hoped they would be able to do if it was necessary; while praying that they never have to make that choice.

When Sally's call to the watch commander's office went unanswered it was redirected to Captain Moore. What she told him about Pete didn't come as much of a surprise; he was being kept informed on Pete's condition. In addition, as Pete's training officer, he knew more about his friend's stubborn independent streak than almost anyone in the station. From his first day on the job, Pete always pushed himself too hard; he hadn't stopped. It wasn't in his nature to rest and let people "hover" over him. More than once, Val had to return Pete to the hospital bed he had escaped from; if only this could be as easily fixed.

Moore thanked Sally and promised to notify everyone there. With a large sigh, Moore made his way down the hall to begin spreading the bad news.

xxxxx

An hour after Pete was taken into the OR, the surgical waiting room and hallway had been claimed by the division. One corner of the waiting room was occupied by Pete's family; his parents, the Reeds, Sally and Mac. Every new arrival paid their respects to the six people in the corner before joining the rest of the visitors. They stayed in case they were needed; it was the kind of vigil they seemed to face more and more.

Sally kept her word to Larry, who, along with the rest of the team, spent some time talking basketball with Thomas. Those kids knew they were important to Pete, but were surprised to find that his parents knew all their names and positions. David was there, but he seemed to be trying to avoid being seen by Jean or Jim. He needn't had to worry; there would be time for questions later. Jean did, however, give Sally a warning to be on the lookout for Judy. The warning should have been given to Judy now that Thomas had told the others about her visit to Jim's house.

Every few seconds someone would glance at their watch or the clock on the wall. Although no one left, the noise level in the room decreased as the night went on. Most of them assumed that the longer the wait; the worse things were for Pete. Few of them knew the reason that this surgery was taking longer than his previous one.

Jim Reed couldn't sit there any longer; surely they had to be almost finished. How much more was he supposed to take? How much more was Pete expected to be able to handle? Jim excused himself, citing a need to use the restroom. Mac stopped Jean when she looked ready to go after her husband. "Let him be Jean. He needs some time."

"Give that poor pen a rest, Partner." Jim had found a secluded spot by a window and was nervously clicking the top of a ball point pen. It was just him and the lights of the city below, until he heard someone say something to him. It couldn't be.

"Pete?" Jim did a full 360 degree turn; confirming that he was alone.

"Of course its's me. Who else calls you Partner?" That's it. Jim was sure he was cracking up. Pete couldn't be here talking to him. Yet, it sounded too much like Pete to be his father; besides Thomas wouldn't pull something like this.

"It can't be you. What are…how...aren't you?" Jim was so flustered that he couldn't complete a thought. Then a terrifying prospect lodged itself in his head. "Are you…?" He couldn't. No, he wouldn't voice that fear.

"Dead?" Funny, the voice didn't mind saying it. Jim's only response was a cross between a nod and a shake of his head. "Eh, on the whole, I think not." The voice was chuckling. "At least not yet, that is."

Reed ran both hands through his hair, causing it to stand on end. Jim had an overwhelming urge to find an actual person to replace the disquieting voice. He got two steps when, for lack of a better word, Pete called after him. "Will you stand still for a minute? In case you haven't noticed, I don't seem to have a body to chase after you with."

"That's not my fault." Now he was ready to argue with the voice. "Why aren't you where you're supposed to be?"

"Apparently, most of me _is_ wherever I'm supposed to be, since you can't see me." Jim leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. He held his head in both hands, elbows on his knees, praying for an explanation of the last five minutes. "Look Jim. I don't understand any of this either. Where am I supposed to be if not with you?"

"The Operating Room." Jim didn't try to stop the tears welling up in his eyes.

"That can't be good, unless, well there was one night that I was doing the operating…" For someone being operated on, Pete was, in Jim's opinion, being much too flippant about the whole thing.

"Pete! How can you joke about this?" Didn't Pete realize that this was serious?

"You're blushing Partner." For some strange reason, Pete did find the whole thing a tad funny. "What do you want me to say?"

"Don't you know? Why are you haunting me?" Jim tightened his hands into fists in an attempt to stop them from shaking.

"Haunting you? If I were dead, wouldn't I be covered with a white sheet and floating around you?" Pete proceeded to making booing noises.

"Will you stop that? This is no time for joking around." Jim closed his eyes; letting his head lean against the cold hallway tiles.

"Sorry Jim." For a few minutes, there was silence. Jim was about to convince himself that none of this was happening when he felt the soft touch of a hand on his shoulder. "In case I don't come out of there alive, I need to thank you. That first night we rode together, you saved more than my career; you saved me." This new, serious tone Pete was taking on scared Reed even more.

"You and Jean took me in and you gave me Jimmy. I've made a lot of questionable choices in my life, but taking a couple of bullets for my Godson, that isn't one of them."

Jim felt the grip on his shoulder tightening. "See you later, Jim. Oh, do me a favor. Take care of those I leave behind."

"Wait! Don't go! Please." Jim fought against the restraining grip on his shoulder; trying to go after Pete.

"Jim. Honey, wake up. The doctor is coming out to see us."

xxxxx

Dr. Franks hadn't bothered to change out of his scrubs; he'd been on the waiting side a few times and knew the way a long wait ramps their fears into overdrive. Pete's parents had asked that his friends be in the waiting room to hear the news straight from the surgeon.

"Pete's in the recovery room. He tolerated the surgery well." During Pete's first surgery the doctors didn't have the time to reinforce possible weak spots because he wasn't stable enough for a longer operation. What internal bleeding he had had been minor compared to the hemorrhaging right after the shooting. "He's still critical, but we're optimistic. We cleaned out the thigh wound and stopped the internal bleeding, so the infection should be going away. I'll let you know when he's setup in the ICU but I'm asking you to keep the list of visitors down."

"Hey Doc?" Dr. Franks was halfway down the hall when Jim chased after him. He was still unsettled about what had to have been a dream, but he had never had such a vivid dream that wasn't a nightmare. When they were close to each other, Jim leaned in and asked the doctor a question; Did Pete go into cardiac arrest during the operation? He'd never believed in ghosts or "out of body" experiences before, why was he even considering them now?

xxxxx

Jean wanted some time alone with Pete. It didn't make sense, but she knew that she had to speak to him now; she knew it as well as she knew her son's smile. For the past day, Jean had been hearing a voice in her head that repeated "Jimmy and Pete, Jimmy and Pete". Her grandmother had died over ten years ago; long before Jimmy and Pete had entered their lives. Yet, it was her voice that Jean heard. It had taken her two hours to convince the others to take a break and get some food; assuring them that she would call if anything happened.

A circle of moonlight framed the two friends. Pete was almost as white as the blanket that covered him and he looked thinner than Jean thought he should be. She sat close enough to the bed that no one else would hear what she had to tell him. The truth was that she had no idea what she was supposed to say to him. All she did know was that her family was blessed the day that Jim was foisted on a very reluctant Pete. At first she said the same things everyone else did; pleas begging him not to go and telling his how much they love him. The voice in her head switched its message. It said "bugs" and it jolted Jean's brain into gear.

"Do you know why Jimmy is stomping on bugs he finds in the backyard?" Jean might have imagined it, but she thought she saw Pete smile slightly. Was he waking up? "My mother heard Jimmy saying "bad bugs smash". We couldn't let him into the house because the soles of his sneakers were covered in dead beetles." When it happened, Jean was too busy to wonder how Jimmy knew which bugs were bad for her rose bushes.

"I also caught Jimmy spitting on ants in the back yard _after_ I yelled at you for teaching him how to spit." Jean smiled at the memory of her excited four-year-old showing off his new trick. "He said you told him to spit on them until there was enough spit for them to swim in. I was already working out the lecture I was going to give you about teaching my son how to drown ants, when Jimmy showed me the way the ants clung to each other and floated out of the water to safety." Jean paused to wipe the tears sliding down her cheeks. "You weren't being a trouble maker; you were teaching him about nature. I've got you figured out. Wait until I tell Jim what you've been doing."

"I'll….deny…it." The voice had a gravelly sound to it and there was a pause between each word, but Pete was responding. He opened one eye, glared at her for a second then closed the eye again. Pete opened both eyes when Jean suddenly started laughing.

"Is that the same look you use to put Jim in his place? You might get away with intimidating my husband but you don't fool me." After Jim told her about his first three weeks with Pete, Jean wasn't sure she wanted to meet the man who seemed to enjoy terrorizing her husband. "You are an old softie Pete Malloy,but don't worry, I won't spill your secret."

"Humph." Pete made an aborted attempt to raise his head to allow him a better view of Jean. She saw the flash of pain in Pete's eyes and rang for the nurse. At the same time, she leaned over his bed and kissed him on the cheek.

"You are in so much trouble. Do you know that?" Pete opened his eyes and slightly shook his head. He didn't think he had the strength to answer her with more than that. A nurse poked her head into the room to say that the doctor would be in soon.

"There's a long line of people who are waiting to straighten you out. Rumor has it that they are going to pick names out of a hat to see who gets to yell at you first." She rubbed the top of his head the way a mother would her small son. "It's okay; I'll protect you." Pete stared up at Jean, confusion in his eyes. It was obvious that he had no idea what she was talking about. "Jim and I will never forget what you did for Jimmy."

"Jimmy…okay?" Pete's entire body felt roughly the same way the aforementioned beetles' did. His breathing was labored and shallow, with even the slightest intake of air causing him pain. That he could deal with. What scared Pete was that Jimmy seemed to be involved with whatever landed him here.

"Jimmy is fine. You saved his life." Pete took a quick look at his surroundings and then back at Jean. His eyes asked the question that he couldn't. Was Jimmy hurt too? "Believe me Pete; he is fine. You're the only one who got hurt."

Jean took a step back when the nurse returned to give Pete a small injection of morphine. "Dr. Franks told me to tell you not to talk, move or drink any water." He didn't get the reference, but he did hear Jean chuckle. "You gave your friends quite a scare these last few days. Does he know what happened to him?"

"No. He…doesn't." Apparently the morphine worked quickly enough to give Pete a boost in strength. Jean indicated that she would prefer to tell Pete so the nurse left. That was when he first noticed the tears running down Jean's cheeks. The usually unflappable Pete had one consistent weakness and that was crying women; he didn't know how to deal with them. Jean lowered the bed railing to allow her to rest her head on his good shoulder; it was as close as she could come to hugging him. Pete tried to tell her not to cry, but talking was really beyond his raspy throat.

"You were shot Pete." Shot? Pete was trying to figure out how being shot caused so much pain; even being shot in the chest only hurt there. Hopefully once Jean stopped crying she would explain things to him. "You tried to get yourself killed."

"What?" Pete barely croaked the one word question. Why in the world would he want to die? Suicide? That didn't sound like something he would do. He was so frustrated and all he could do was a weak slam of his fist on the railing. "J...Jean?"

Finally, she lifted her head off his shoulder; using the back of her hand to wipe her eyes. "I got your bandages wet." Pete's eyes popped out in disbelief. That's what she thinks is important? Weak as he was, he seriously considered trying to get out of the bed.

"I'm not explaining this right, am I?" Pete slowly shook his head, just a little. "You distracted the guy with the gun long enough to let Jim get Jimmy to safety. He shot you five times." She was semi-hugging and crying on his shoulder again.

"You've got to live, please."


	21. Chapter 21

Mac had encouraged the off-duty officers to go home and sleep; those that didn't leave settled into the ICU waiting area once again. The five of them were returning from the cafeteria and were heading to Pete's room. Jim, Sally and Mac were walking in front; giving the Malloy's a little privacy to discuss their son.

"I'll join you in Pete's room as soon as I take care of _that_." Thomas directed his wife's attention to the woman standing in the hallway. It didn't take a detective to jump to the conclusion that the woman was Judy.

"No, you go with the others. I want to get to the bottom of this." Katherine's dander was up. How could that woman even imply that her son was cheating on Sally? After brief introductions, Katherine led Judy into an empty room, closed the door and pounced on the younger woman. "I was upset when Peter told me that he stopped seeing you, now I'm may understand his choice to do so. What are you accusing my son of?"

"I didn't accuse him of anything. What I said was that I need to talk to Pete. Please let me see him." Judy started to fiddle with the buckle on her purse; stalling for time.

"My husband said that you implied that you were pregnant. Are you denying making that hand over your stomach motion?" Katherine Malloy stood her ground; giving Judy the once over. As far as she could see, Judy didn't seem to be pregnant.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I need to speak to Pete, please." Judy took a step back and to the side, eying a possible route for an end run.

"I'm not going to let your speak to my son. Peter told me months ago that he was starting to see Sally. Do you expect me to believe that my son is cheating on her?" People who didn't know his parents thought that Pete must get his temper from his father. He was actually a mix of both his parents; the slow fuse of his father and his mother's tendency to really blow up when the gun power was ignited. "My son is an honorable man, not one to sneak behind another's back. What are you playing at?"

"Nothing I, um, need his help." In all the times the two women had spoken to each other on the phone the conversation was always pleasant. Judy was totally unprepared for the tiger-lady protecting her cub.

"His help? You claim to be carrying my son's child when that isn't possible and you want a favor from him?" Katherine was positive that her son was neither cheating on Sally nor creating life on the side. A strict Catholic, Pete's mom had a somewhat idealized opinion in regards to her son's bachelorhood.

"I'm sorry I implied that, but this is important. I have to talk to him about David." She did seem to have an air of desperation to her. However, Katherine wouldn't let her in to see Pete even if he gave Judy permission to talk to him.

"Peter is in no condition to have visitors, especially one that will upset him. Go home." Katherine was a few inches shorter than Judy was, but even from below the glare in her eyes was effective.

"Pete will want to help David. My son is going to run away if he can't talk to Pete about Roger, the man I've started seeing." It seemed plausible; Katherine had some experience dealing with a stubborn and determined son. Pete had joked with his mother about David taking on some of his less desirable traits, including the tendency to run away. Not that Pete ever went far; until he left for L.A.

"I'm sorry. Peter isn't stable. It will be days before I can even ask him if he would speak to David." The plea from one mother to another softened Katherine's stance; she agreed to consider Judy's request. Right now though, Pete was the only son she was concerned about.

xxxxx

"Not gonna die." Pete had managed to raise his right hand to Jean's back in his own version of half a hug. "Promises to keep." At the sound of the door opening, Jean started to sit back up.

"Will you look at that? Barely awake and he's hugging my wife." Jim held the door open for Sally and Mac. Thomas decided to wait in the hallway for his wife, before going in to see their son.

"Jean? Aren't you hugging the wrong man?" Sally was smiling as she teased her friend. The relief at finding Pete awake washed over the three friends.

"Welcome back Pete." Mac stepped close to the bed, laying a hand on Pete's good leg. "How do you feel?"

"Alive." His voice was a little horse from disuse but Pete didn't seem inclined to stay quiet.

"That's better than the alternative, but can you be more specific?" Like Jean and Jim, Mac's eyes were shining with unshed tears. The events of the last three plus days had taken a toll on all of them, including Pete.

"Tired and confused." Sally, who waited for Jean to-move away from the bed, took Pete's large hand in her smaller one. "I've got questions." Between the medications and the fevers, Pete had little to no memory of being told anything about the shooting.

"Pete, Honey. There's time for that later, when you're stronger." With her other hand, Sally reached up to brush the cowlick tuft of hair off his forehead.

"No, now." Pete jerked his head to the side; away from Sally's touch. He hadn't made any sounds of pain but anyone who knew him would recognize the flash of it in his eyes. "Who shot me and why?"*

"Sally is right Pete. It doesn't matter. He's dead and can't hurt anyone again." As much as Mac wanted to put Pete's mind at ease, he was under orders to not give his friend any information until after the detectives interviewed him. "Besides, because of the pain medication, you probably won't remember anything we tell you."

"I need to know now." Pete found the controls for the bed and began to raise his head.

"Relax Pete, we're not allowed to tell you anything. Not until the detectives can speak to you about what you remember." Jim was beginning to agree with Jean's opinion that keeping the truth from Pete served no purpose since Tony was dead.

"Not a…_damn thing_. That's what." Pete ran his good hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. It was the first sign of his frustration but not the worst one. Sally noticed that the beeps of the heart monitor were coming closer together.

"Pete, please calm down." Even as she spoke to Pete, Sally shot a glare at Jim. Surely he could hear the heart machine as well as she could. "Getting upset won't help." Mac and Jim echoed Sally's plea for Pete to calm down. Surely this wasn't good for him.

"Don't …tell me…to calm…down." Pete's voice rose in frustration. His breathing was becoming labored as he struggled to yell at them. "I have the…right to know."

"I'll talk to the captain; see if he will give us permission to tell you." Mac's attempt to calm Pete down with the possibility of being told soon, wasn't well received either.

"Now Mac!" Pete turned a little to allow him to glare at Mac; causing him to put a protective hand over his stomach. Even the slight movements he was making were causing him severe pain.

"Jim, tell him already or I will." Jean meant it; she would tell Pete anything she could to calm him down. Only her belief that Jim should tell Pete kept her from blurting out the details to him.

"Pete, you're hurting yourself. It isn't good for you to be upset over what you can't be told yet." Jim stepped closer to stand side-by-side with Mac effectively forming a wall of silence on the events that led to Pete being in the hospital.

"Don't upset…me then." Pete's color was coming back, which wasn't a good thing when it was caused by his anger and frustration. His chest was heaving as he tried to breathe.

"What is going on here?" None of them had heard the doctor's entrance into the room, but they did quiet when he yelled at them. "This man needs to rest. Out, all of you!" Jim, Mac and Jean left after making somewhat sheepish apologies. Although Sally wanted to stay she, too, was ushered out by Dr. Franks.

With the help of a nurse, the doctor checked Pete's vital signs. Dr. Franks put Pete on oxygen and ordered some pain medications; telling him to calm down before he was sedated. The doctor went about checking Pete's wounds while waiting for Pete to settle down.

"How do you feel Pete?" Franks reached over to remove the oxygen mask in order to let Pete answer.

"Like I've been field dressed, that's how." He might have calmed down but his mood hadn't improved at all.

"Except when you gut a deer, the idea is to not damage the intestines. You didn't help things by moving around. " Franks took the syringe from the returning nurse and injected the morphine into Pete's IV. "Stay still while I get your father." Pete didn't say anything, but he did roll his eyes; he didn't need to be yelled at by his father.

After a brief conversation with the doctor, Thomas entered his son's room. He held up a hand to stop Pete from protesting anything and took a seat next to the bed. When he started speaking, Thomas began by telling Pete who shot him. He told his son everything that they knew about what happened in the Reed's backyard, including Pete's choice to sacrifice himself for Jimmy. What he heard clearly upset Pete, but his father was able to convince him that he couldn't have prevented Tony's actions. Eventually Thomas told Pete about Tony's death and the people he killed on the way.

"Your mother and I aren't happy with what you did, but after meeting Jim and Jimmy, we do understand it. I'm proud of you son."


	22. Chapter 22

"Like death warmed over" was apparently the wrong answer to his mother's question, but the truth was, that Pete was tired of answering with "better" or "okay". He should have known not to respond that way; a fact that his father drove home in a ten minute lecture about not upsetting his mother, but Pete was at wit's end. In the four days since his second operation, Pete had not spent one second alone. Every time he woke up, there was a well-meaning friend or family member standing by in case he needed anything. For someone who values his privacy, it was a nightmare. Pete was dreading the upcoming move out of the ICU as it would mean an end to the limit on who was allowed in to see him.

Pete ran his good hand down his now clean-shaven face and scowled. The lack of whiskers was a reminder of that morning's fiasco. Until last night, Pete hadn't been able to sleep more than a few hours at a time; the pain medication had been wearing off long before the next injection was due. Doctor Franks had been able to increase the dosage as Pete grew stronger which meant that he was woken up by Sally's arrival instead of by the pain. The soft kiss she gave him wasn't enough so Pete pulled her back for a more amorous one. If she had any doubt that he was feeling better, it was vanquished by the way he held her close.

"Ahem". The couple quickly broke the kiss at the sound of his mother clearing her throat. While Sally's face was turning bright red, Pete was not embarrassed in the least. "Is this what you two do when I'm not here? He's not strong enough for kissing."

"Trust me; a few kisses are not going to hurt me." Pete had taken the lead in dealing with his mother on this issue.

"I would never do anything that would hurt Pete, you have to know that." Sally took hold of Pete's hand, effectively putting a barrier between Pete and his mother.

"That's because I stopped you. I know you love him, but I'm his mother. It's my job to take care of him." It had been Katherine's shift to sit in his room and watch him. While Pete appreciated their concern, he did think that making a round the clock schedule was a bit much. It wasn't like he was going to get up and sneak out of the hospital, not yet anyway.

"I can take care of myself. There is a button I can push if I need someone fussing over me." Pete didn't want to hurt either one of them but he knew his mother well enough to see the possible problems her over-protectiveness could cause. His point may have been taken at face value if he had been able to quash the flash of pain they saw on his face when he turned to see his mother better. Instantly both women were putting a hand on his shoulder to make him lay back on the bed. "Stop that. I have nurses just waiting for me to push that little red button so they can rush in here to rescue me."

"Sometime we even come in before you ring the bell." Maybe that St. Michael's medal his mother made him wear was working; the nurses timing seemed perfect. "It's time to hang another antibiotic drip and you are due for your pain medicine." Pete had failed to see the cart the nurse had brought in with her; he might soon regret her arrival. "While I'm here, I'm going to give you a sponge bath."

"Oh no, you are not giving me a bath; especially with them in the room." That was the first time that Sally had seen Pete embarrassed to the point where the blush covered every visible spot on his body. "I have rules about who can see me stripped down."

"You're blushing. Look even his chest is turning red." Sally really didn't need to point that out, but she did anyway.

"He's done that since he was a kid; turn red all over." Right about now, Pete would give almost anything to leave, but the best thing he could do was to pull the sheet up to his neck and utter a silent prayer to be left alone. "I'll bathe him nurse, I've seen everything he's got before." Was there no end to his mother's capacity to embarrass him?

"So has Sally, but I'm not going to let her give me a bath either!" Uh oh, that was definitely the wrong thing to say with his mother present. He didn't need Sally to squeeze his hand in warning before adding "She has been my nurse before."

"She's not now and she's not your wife. I outrank her." Katherine Malloy reached for the sheet Pete had pulled up to cover him and attempted to remove it so she could bathe him. Sally was, for the moment, on his side, tugging the sheet out of his mother's hand. The poor nurse was stuck between the two women.

"And when she is my wife are you still going to fight over babying me?"

Dead silence.

Pete was saved having to explain that shocking question by the grace of the nurse, who took that opportunity to usher the mother and the …fiancé (?) out into the hallway. She hung the antibiotic and slowly injected the larger dose of morphine into his vein; rubbing his forearm to encourage the distribution of the morphine.

"You may have stopped the two of them with that question, but I have a feeling that you will be answering more questions once I let them back in here." Pete had to admit that the warm water the nurse was washing his chest with felt nice. He tensed up when the nurse moved down to his stomach and side, taking in a sharp breath of air.

"You're in more pain than you are letting them know about, aren't you?" With a nod back of her head, the nurse indicated his mother and Sally.

"Yeah, they worry enough as it is. The pain will go away, eventually." He placed a protective hand over his stomach and admitted that the morphine mostly took the edge off the pain; it was enough to let him get some sleep but he was still in pain. The nurse shook her head and, under her breath, said that she would talk to his doctor. Continuing with her work, she mercifully left his dignity in tact as she cleaned his body, washed his hair and shaved the week's growth of whiskers on his face. For the moment, he was content to lay back and enjoy the quiet.

xxxxx

"Quiet" didn't exactly describe the scene outside his door. Not only were Sally and Katherine out there, but Mac was using his break to stop in and see how Pete was doing. Those three, along with a passing nurse or two, found the possible death of Pete's bachelor status to be a very interesting topic.

"Are you and my son engaged? He didn't tell me anything about it. I would hope he would let me know about a change that big to his life." Katherine was putting Sally on the spot; she was as surprised at what Pete had said as his mother was. Mac took the position that Pete wasn't being literal but only said that to shut them up.

"He never asked me to marry him." Sally was trying to be vague about her relationship with Pete. It was true that he never came out and said those four words, but her thoughts had been going in that direction. She wasn't sure where his mind was trending on the issue.

"Do you want to marry Peter?" There was really no right way to answer that question. If she said no, then his mother would be mad that she was stringing Pete along. If she said yes, she would be committing to something that Pete hadn't mentioned.

"That's between Pete and me. I'm sure he'll tell you if he decides to ask me." Sally looked to Mac, hoping for some help, but he was laughing. You're a lot of help, Mac."

"Do you want children, because I know that Peter wants kids. He loves little Jimmy so much that he wants a few of his own." Mac decided that Jerry Miller had nothing over Mrs. Malloy as far as questioning a suspect goes.

Sally excused herself, went down the hall and into the ladies room where she started banging her head on the wall.

**A/N: I changed Pete's mother's name. A writer should never use the same first name for two characters. Mac's wife's name was established in at least three episodes, so Mrs. Malloy got the change. If you happen to find a stray "Mary" Malloy please let me know.**

**~J~**


	23. Chapter 23

Privacy! Pete had finally had his room to himself. The kindly nurse promised to not let in anyone who might upset Pete, under the white lie that he had fallen back asleep after the shot of morphine; there were more "any ones" than there are petals on a daisy. Pete had a whole five minutes alone before Mac walked in. It wasn't courage that made Mac venture into Pete's room; it was the fact that his 45 minutes for lunch was flying by. Considering what went on before, Pete was glad to see a sounding board come in.

"Is it safe, or am I on your "list"? The half-serious question was met with a laugh. If Pete was honest with himself, the entire list was composed of his mother.

"If I said it wasn't safe, you'd pull rank and come in anyway, so come on in." Mac wasn't known for being blunt, but time constraints being what they are, he broached the subject.

"I heard what you yelled at your mother. You're lucky; you missed her pouncing on Sally." He was fiddling with the brim of his hat as approached Pete's bedside.

"She would have done it whether the nurse threw them out or not. My mother has never learned to respect my personal boundaries. To her, I'm perpetually four-years-old." Pete let out a huff of breath and leaned his head back against the headboard. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is for an adult man to have his mother want to give him a sponge bath?"

"No, I can't say that I do." There was no way that Mac could keep himself from chuckling a little bit. Their friendship could stand a laugh between them.

"You're lucky. My mother would beat a humming bird in a hovering contest."

"I guess I should apologize to you; for calling your parents. After the second time you went into cardiac arrest, I couldn't not call them." The cardiac arrests were news to Pete, but he wasn't surprised to hear that his heart had stopped at least twice; not with the way he felt.

"No, you were right to call them. I'm glad they came, but she can be a bit much. Pop is okay. He's usually low keyed, easy going; now that I'm no longer living in his house and subject to his rules. I know this scared him, but he won't be the one trying to get me to retire or move home"

"He and I spent the first two nights here with you. I have to say, I do like your dad." In many ways, Pete's father reminded Mac of his friend; unflappable, laid back, genuine, but without the sarcastic wit.

"You're still sitting up at my bedside all night." It wasn't an accusation or a criticism. Anyone who knew Pete would recognize the gratitude he wasn't able to express but was evident in his eyes.

"He did tell me a few interesting things about you." The twitching of Mac's lips let Pete know that he would have to have a talk with his father. "Is it true that your senior class voted you "Most likely to wind up in jail"? To Mac's credit, he got the whole question out before he burst out laughing.

"In my defense, it was a small senior class." With his right index finger extended, Pete emphasized each word. He trusted Mac enough to not find the need to warn him about repeating that tidbit from his teen years. 'I'm almost afraid to ask what else he told you."

"I'm saving the rest for the next dozen or so times that I need you to work a double and your first answer is no" Mac turned slightly as he tried to hide the fact that he was wiping a stray tear from his cheek. He could have passed it off as a side effect of laughing, but it wasn't that; Mac thought he would never again have the chance to joke like this with Pete.

"Blackmail is beneath you, besides, there isn't much worse than that that he could tell you." On second thought, Pete stopped while he was ahead; too many things were coming to mind.

"I should be getting back to work, but I have to ask. Are you considering marrying Sally?" Pete could count the number of people he wouldn't resent asking that question on one hand and still have a few fingers left, but Mac was one of them.

"I don't know Mac. It's awfully nice to come home to her. I do love Sally but…" Pete let the rest of that sentence dangle; unsure of what to say next.

"But what, Pete? If you love her, why would you hesitate? Is holding onto your privacy enough of a reason to not ask her?"

"Look around you. I came damn close to taking up residence in a six and a half foot pine box. This has shaken Sally; you can see it as well as I can. Do I have the right to ask her to risk this again?" Pete ran his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated by his circumstances and the dangers his job entailed.

"If you love her, and she loves you, do you have the right to hold back that love?" Mac patted Pete on the shoulder before he walked towards the door. He stopped just short of leaving. "Allow yourself to be happy, my friend."

Could he do that? For most of his time living in Los Angeles, Pete turned tail and ran when the subject of marriage came up. Donna, Cathy, Julie, how many others had he broken off things with before they became serious? After each broken romance Jim would insist that marriage wouldn't kill him, but Pete wasn't so sure. Maybe that's why he stayed so long with Judy, despite this doubts; she never, directly, brought up getting married. Pete was surprised when he realized that the combination of Sally and marriage didn't set off those familiar alarms. After what he said, he and Sally did need to have a talk.

xxxxx

When the door opened, Pete's heart sped up; hoping that Sally was coming back. Two men in their fifties, wearing white coats drew his mind from the non-frightening thought of settling down. He eyed the doctors suspiciously. "If you've come in to lecture me, can I have a glass of water before you start?"

"What makes you think we're here to lecture you? Maybe we're to say that you can start eating." It was Dr. Torrens who spoke while Dr. Franks got Pete a drink of water.

"Two things. One: the Doc there doesn't need reinforcements to give me good news. Two, that nurse is a stool pigeon." Pete took the glass from Franks and started to drink it before he took it away.

"How are you feeling, Pete?" Dr. Torrens began checking Pete's shoulder while Franks asked questions.

"Stronger than the last time you asked. Am I finally going to get to eat?" Pete tried to stifle a wince when Torrens moved his arm, sending pain shooting from the elbow and into his shoulder.

"You're not in pain?" A gentle poke in the side accompanied Franks' question. It didn't take a doctor to see Pete's stomach muscles tensing or to hear the gasp of pain that escaped Pete's attempt to stifle it.

"You two just poked and pulled on me, of course it hurts. That's not a fair question." Pete was ready to argue the point. "I'm okay if you don't do that."

"The stool pigeon was doing her job. We need to know how you are handling the pain. If it hurts too much you might move and make things worse." If he was honest, his shoulder and stomach throbbed, but he hated the alternative. Being fully medicated was unsettling to someone who is used to being control.

"I don't like the way the medications make me feel. Besides, that sedative gives me a headache." Pete didn't think they would force the pain medication on him, so maybe there was some room to negotiate. "Stop the sedative and lets keep the morphine level where it is and I'll do my best to not move too much."

"How about we try this? We'll drop the sedative and increase the morphine you're getting." The two doctors had been discussing the possibility in between Pete's protests.

"I don't want it increased but I promise to not refuse it if….you move me out of here." Even heavily medicated he found it hard to sleep in the ICU; someone was always checking something. Torrens and Franks considered their options; coming up with another offer.

"We increase the morphine by half, you agree to take it as prescribed for the next two weeks and we'll move you to the surgical ward and start you on a liquid diet."

"Two weeks? Can I at least have jello instead of that disgusting broth you serve here?" Considering the pain he was in, two weeks would serve as a starting point. He could always renegotiate the deal.

"Broth _and_ Jello. That's our final offer." Twelve plus years as a cop gave Pete a heightened ability to read people; it told him to accept the deal.

xxxxx

A flying magazine barely missed Sally when she opened the door to Pete's room. He caught a glimpse of her before she closed the door; saying something his mother would still try to wash his mouth out with Lifeboy for saying, if she heard it.

"Sally!" Without thinking Pete grabbed the bed rail and pulled himself up, determined to go after her. All that accomplished was that he pulled out his IV before he fell back in pain.

"Pete, what do you think you're doing? Do you want to make this worse?" Sally had returned. She hadn't meant to after he threw a magazine at her, but something in his voice made her come back. She ran in to force him to stay down; using the sheet to put pressure on his bleeding arm. "I should let you bleed. What were you thinking and why did you throw a magazine at me." Incredible, he was laughing at her; further infuriating her. The nurse from earlier that morning came in with the agreed to additional dose of morphine. She wasn't happy about the situation she walked in on. Sally gave her assurance that they, meaning Pete, would behave. The skeptical nurse gave Pete the injection and left.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't throwing it at you; just throwing it because I couldn't read it. The darn thing kept falling out of my hand." Pete offered up a small smile with the apology, hoping she'd take pity on him. Meanwhile, the nurse returned to hand Sally the things she needed to start a new IV line.

"So, you hurt yourself. Pete, what am I going to do with you?" Perhaps the smile worked, the tone of her voice was softer and she sounded more frustrated than angry. Sally was putting in the IV as she spoke.

"Forgive me? I'm an idiot." Not surprisingly, Pete meant it. He was a fool, on so many levels. Sally, however, was one thing he seriously wanted to fix.

"No you're not. We're all been on edge for days. Plus, I didn't help things; teasing you like that in front of your mother." Sally kept her eyes focused on the IV she was starting. She didn't want to look into his eyes.

"About my mother, I'm sorry she went after you. Sometimes I think she would make a great Doberman." His IV fixed Pete took Sally's hand in his. "She should have had twenty children; it might have let her get that rabid mothering instinct under control."

"Is she always this bad or did you getting shot make her worse than usual?" Pete had sidled a little to the left, allowing space for Sally to half sit.

"Offering to bathe me is just the last in a long line of embarrassing situations she's caused by being over-protective. There's a reason I live thirteen hundred miles away from them." Pete was brushing his thumb over her hand; a mini caress he was able to make.

"I'm guessing that it's only one of many reasons." Sally reached up with her left hand to brush down and back the hair Pete accidently made stand up while talking to Mac. Suddenly, she seemed shy to Pete.

"About what I said; the reason she pounced on you. I never meant to reveal some of my feelings for you in quite that manner." Sally couldn't miss the vulnerability in Pete's eyes or in his words.

"What do you feel Pete?" She was almost afraid to hear his answer. These last few months spent with him have been so amazing; so comfortable. Sally hoped he said what he did because he loved her and not only to put his mother in her place.

"I promised you before all this happened, that you weren't going to get rid of me as easily as the last time. I don't know if I'm ready for marriage, but I love you. Letting our careers get in the way of romance, is one decision I wish I could take back."


	24. Chapter 24

Sergeant Bill Mac Donald made his way towards the locker room still debating what and how much he should say to Jim Reed. There was an actual reason to tell Reed that he needed to stop by the hospital on his way home; Pete had a job related issue to discus with him, but isn't what has Mac unsettled. He was starting to worry about how much Pete could take before he blows a gasket. Not that he blamed his friend; in fact, he had never felt sorrier for Pete.

He could only remember a few times where he was this concerned about Pete. Mac was at a loss to understand Mrs. Malloy's behavior. She had to see what it was doing to Pete, who certainly didn't need the stress. While Mac only ran into her at the hospital, she and Pete's father were staying with the Reeds; maybe Jim knew something Mac didn't. He pulled Reed aside.

"Jim have you been to see Pete today?" It was a rhetorical question as Mac knew that Jim had been at work since seven that morning.

"Uh, no Mac, I was going to go after dinner. Why? Is there something wrong?" Immediately, Jim's thoughts went towards Pete's physical condition. Although his partner was getting better, there was still the possibility of a medical crisis.

"Not medically. He is being moved out of the ICU sometime this afternoon." Maybe he should let it be. Jim knows Pete well enough to gauge his stress level.

"Then what's the problem?" Jim hasn't actually gotten to talk to Pete in two days. He had worked a double shift and didn't get there until Pete was sedated for the night.

"Go see him. He has something to talk to you about."

"Lemon jello. I haven't eaten in a week and they give me lemon jello?" Pete was talking to himself. His new room in the surgical ward wasn't much better than the ICU; no TV, no radio, no phone and nurses who kept coming into check on him.

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" Jim poked his head into the room; laughing at his partner.

"Yeah, I told Mac to send you here so I can grouse about the food. Would you get in here and close the door"? Pete held up a hand to stop Jim. "You are alone, right?"

"Yeah, who don't you want in here?" Jim pulled a chair close to the bed and sat on Pete's right.

"Mostly, my mother." Pete ran his right hand through his hair; causing it to stand on end. "She's got to go home, soon."

"That's not her plan, Partner. I don't know if I should tell you this, but she asked for the key to your apartment." The expression of disgust on Jim's face told Pete that there was more to come and that he wouldn't like it.

"I'm assuming that you didn't let her have my keys, even though I have the feeling that, by now, she's pushing her limit with Jean." Pete kept to himself the fact that his mother thought Jean was far too irresponsible in her care of Jimmy.

"No, I knew you'd kill me if I let her into your apartment, let alone if I had given her your keys." Jim hemmed and hawed for a minute before continuing on, but Pete knew his mother better than Reed did. "She wants to move in there and yes, if she wasn't your mother, Jean would have shown her the door by now,"

"Nah, I'd just beat the snot out of you as soon as I got out of here. So, thank you for that. Please tell Jean that she has my permission to throw them out." Pete felt bad that his parents had imposed on the Reeds for over a week. As he spoke, Pete kept tapping the bed railing with his good hand. "The department will pay for a hotel room for them."

"Your father isn't a problem. He can stay." Jim chuckled, hoping to lighten Pete's mood. They had been partners long enough to recognize the signs that his friend was too tense; running his hand through his hair, tapping the railing the same way he would tap the steering wheel during a stressful shift.

"Pop is okay. I'll talk to him. He should be getting back to the farm anyway." Pete wasn't lying when he told Mac that he was glad that his parents came down, but he got along with his mother better at a distance. It was time to change the subject. "How's Jimmy doing?"

"He really likes your dad." Yes, Jim was evading the question, but he was sure the full answer would upset his partner.

"I think the feeling is mutual, but you didn't answer my question. How is Jimmy?" Now that Pete could think clearly he was worried about his Godson; was what Tony did having an effect on the boy. "Does he remember?"

'Do you? He's worried about his Uncle Pete. Your dad has been reassuring him that you're alright." Sometimes Reed was easier to read than a stop sign.

"The only thing I remember is something Miller said to me; that Jimmy said a bad man hurt him and me. Now I'm asking you, how is my Godson?" It was probably the most direct question Pete had ever asked Jim, one friend to another. Reed's silence told Pete all he needed to know.

"I need to see him too." The pain was evident in the way Pete spoke softly, not looking up at his friend. "I know everyone has told me that he is okay, but….that's not good enough."

"Pete…you can't see him. You're not even a day out of the ICU. They won't let us bring him in here, you know that." The realization that his son wasn't the only one worried that they'd never see each other again tore at Jim's heart. "I promise you Pete, he wasn't hurt and I'll bring him to see you as soon as they will let you see him."

"Knowing and _knowing_ are two different things, whether you are four or thirty-four." Pete reached up to touch the St. Michael medal his mother insisted that he wore; he could use all the help he could get.

"Eat your jello, before they bring you more for dinner." Jim glanced as his watch before flashing that cheesy grin at his friend. "I need to get home, but I'll be back later."

"Jim! Wait!" Pete cursed under his breath; he hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Jim about the situation at work.

xxxxx

Pete had a well-deserved two whole hours to himself. The kindly nurse who brought him his latest doses of antibiotics and morphine had pushed the tray table over the bed. She gave him a newspaper folded to the crossword puzzle and a pen. He was in heaven. That lasted until the dinner tray was followed by his mother.

"I'm so glad I got here on time." Mrs. Malloy grabbed the napkin off the tray and tried to use the St. Michael medal to hold it in place on Pete's chest. Pete dropped the pen and grabbed his mother's wrist; effectively stopping her.

"Peter, how dare you grab me? I have to cover your chest so that it will catch what you drop while I'm feeding you." She jerked her hand away from him and picked up the cherry jello pulling the lid off it.

"Mom, I'm thirty-four years old. Trust me, I can feed myself." There was no way I hell that he would allow his mother to feed him.

"You'll hurt yourself. I don't know why that girlfriend of yours isn't here to take care of you like Judy did." It was true that Judy visited him often, played cards and watched ball games with him the last time he got shot; however, she never tried to feed him.

"Sally is working right downstairs. If I need her all I have to do is send her a message and she'll come." Pete did not like the tone his mother was taking. "She only started back working today after I got moved here, so back off."

"She's not right for you; a woman who let her career stop you two from being together years ago. You could have a family by now." Pete silently cursed the day that he told his mother he had started dating an old girlfriend.

"I was too busy working to keep up the romance. Leave Sally out of things. This is about you trying to treat me like a child." Already, the blips on the heart machine were coming faster.

"I am not. Maybe if I had a grandchild I would be happier. You know, that _woman_ doesn't seem like the kind to want children." Pete was trying to control his temper; the closed fist and the glare he gave his mother showed just how much he was failing in the attempt.

"Enough, I am in love with Sally; whether we get married or have kids is up to us, not you. Drop it Mom." His grandfather had taught him to stop and count to ten before saying something he might regret; something Pete always tried to do, but not after the last week. He was starting to breathe heavily.

"You'll see. After I move into your apartment to take care of you and she abandons you, I won't say that I told you so." So far, Pete had refrained from blasting his mother; knowing that his was very hard on her, but he had his limits.

"Sally loves me as much as I love her. You will not say another word against her and _You Are Not Moving In to My Home_." He stressed every one of those last eight words; his mother missed the meaning. Pete was too mad to realize that he had clenched his left hand for the first time since the shooting.

"That woman doesn't…" Whatever she was going to say was cut off by her son.

"Get out! Leave! I don't want to hear this. Go!" He was pointing towards the door as he yelled at her. Funny, he didn't feel guilty when she cried hysterically as she ran out.

xxxxx

By now, the nurse had alerted the doctor to Pete's rapidly increasing heartbeat. As he rushed into the room, the attending resident barely missed the crying woman. They took his blood pressure; finding it way too high. They gave him oxygen to help control his heavy breathing. After several minutes of trying to get Pete to calm down, the resident gave up and had him sedated.

Pete knew his father would eventually show up to chastise him for what he said to and for throwing his mother out of his room. He knew it the second she started trying to feed him that the visit was not going to end well. His coming within minutes of dying, worrying about Jimmy, what this was doing to Sally, the guilt he felt over what happened even the death of an old friend weighed on his mind more than his mother's reaction to a long deserved rebuke. So, he wasn't surprised to wake up and find his father at his bedside; he was surprised that his father hadn't tried to wake him up.

"Hello son, did you sleep well?" His father actually seemed to expect an answer from him.

"Yes, being sedated usually means that you do sleep, but yes, I slept well." Pete watched his father carefully for signs that he was going to get a dressing down from the older man. His teenage years were filled with lectures from his drill sergeant turned farmer father; he knew what signs to watch for. So far, his father seemed calm and relaxed.

"I spoke to your mother. She told me what happened; how you threw her out of your room." Waiting for him to start the lecture was grating on Pete's nerves.

"I'm sorry Pop, but she had it coming." Pete was talking with his one good hand waving to emphasize his point.

"Yes, she did. This has all been too stressful for her; the prospect of losing another child." Mr. Malloy stopped talking, giving Pete the chance to absorb the fact that he wasn't, technically, an only child.

"Another? What are you talking about Pop?" All his life, Pete was certain of his status as his parent's only child. Why hadn't they told him about his brother or sister?

"Didn't you ever wonder why you were an only child? Why we waited so long after being married to have you?" As Thomas started to speak again, he ran his hand through the whitening red hair. Some tells were genetic, after all.

"When I was younger, yes, I wanted a brother, but I assumed your time in the military got into the way." Pete could see that talking about this was hard for his father, but he couldn't bring himself to tell him to stop; to say that he didn't need to know.

"Your mother conceived our first child on our Honeymoon. It was a normal pregnancy. Colleen was born in the spring, May 16th at 2:48 in the morning. She died five minutes later." He raked his hand through his hair again. "The doctor said it was a fluke; we could try again. A year later, we were planning for the arrival of another child. The doctor assured us that it wouldn't happen again. Your mother had a miscarriage at six months."

"Pop, it's okay. I don't need to know." Pete didn't want to put his father through this, but the older man continued with the sad tale.

"She miscarried for the second time at four months. We almost lost our marriage; your grandfather helped us stay together. When the doctor told us not to try again, your mother, despite being a strict Catholic, tried to avoid getting pregnant. God had other plans, and she became pregnant for a fourth time. Every day she went to work teaching other people's children; sure that this one would die too." Thomas reached out to touch Pete's cheek. "You were the child we gave up on ever having."

Pete was speechless; unsure what to say. In that light, some of his mother's actions made sense. How many times in his life had he come close to dying? This shooting was the last in a line of scares that started when he was fourteen and his appendix burst.

"Ten years ago, during a check-up, we found out what was wrong. Like your mother, you are Rh negative. I'm positive. Losing three children was my fault." Uncharacteristically Pete's father rose and gave his son a kiss on the cheek. Then he left; his hands in his pockets and his head bent.


	25. Chapter 25

Thunderstruck would be an understatement; Pete was way beyond that. For his entire life his parents, along with a few relatives, had enveloped his identity in a lie. He had spent his childhood envying friends who had brothers and sisters. In a neighborhood filled with large families, Pete was the odd man out. Part of him now understood, but a larger side of him didn't. How many years had his letters to Santa included a request for a brother? He remembered that _one item_ was on every birthday list; why hadn't they told him once he was old enough to understand? Was avoiding the issue worth the pain that his very vocal desires for a sibling must have caused his parents? (Somewhere along the way, Pete had even begged for, _horrors_, a sister.) He still had a lot of questions, but they had taken a back seat to the grief he began to feel for a sister he never knew; for Colleen.

Pete didn't bother to open his eyes when he heard the door open. It had to be either a nurse or one of his doctors or whatever officer it was guarding his door would have asked him if he wanted the visitor. The nurse was fiddling with his IV fluids and humming something that might have been a Beatles song but she was definitely tone-deaf. After two minutes of listening to what seemed to match the beat of "Eleanor Rigby", Pete opened his eyes and said hello. He wasn't in the mood to talk, but there was only so much musical torture Pete could take.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you." The nurse, Carly, if he remembered right, had finished hanging a new saline solution and was working on hanging another dose of antibiotic.

"I wasn't asleep. Mostly, I'm tired of looking at the same wall. Couldn't they find a better color to paint it than puke green?" Pete smiled up at her; he had lot of practice hiding his emotions when he wanted to. The last thing he needed was for this nurse to tell the doctor that he seemed upset about something.

"They do that on purpose; it makes people want to get better faster." She did have a nice smile. It would be so easy to get into flirting mode with her, but he knew better than to encourage her.

"If I tell you that it makes me feel better, can I leave?" Pete grabbed the bed railing, as if he was going to pull himself up and try to get out of bed. He hadn't expected that small bit of movement to cause so much pain; a fact that the nurse noticed.

"I think you need to stay here a little longer. At least until you can move without wincing." Carly, took a syringe out of her pocket and began to inject his pain medication. "Doctor Franks said that you can have a sleeping pill. Would you like me to get you one? It'll stop you from watching the wall."

"Ah, no thanks. I'm beginning to like that color; it grows on a person." He visibly relaxed as he felt the warmth of the drug flowing through his veins.

xxxxx

"I hear you refused to take a sleeping pill. Not that I'm complaining; I prefer you…" Sally let her words trail off when she got a good look at Pete before he shifted his expression to a smile. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

"Is it possible to grieve for someone you never knew existed?" Pete was tapping the bed rail with his right hand; a sign that Jim had warned Sally about.

"Who are you talking about?" Sally made her way to his bedside, taking his right hand in hers. She wasn't the only one who knew that Pete was still riding an emotional roller-coaster.

"Her name was Colleen. She was my older sister." Pete let go of Sally's hand and held out his arm to her; wanting so bad to feel the closeness he had become used to. As Sally made quick work of getting rid of the bedrail, Pete started at the beginning; telling her about throwing his mother out of his room. He followed that up with what his father had told him about his sister and the other would-be siblings. Sally didn't say anything; knowing that Pete didn't want comforting words. Instead she climbed into the bed, nestling close to him. The fact that he was so un-guarded around her made her truly understand the depth of the love he had for her.

"I'm sorry." Sally lay with her head on his good shoulder; right arm across his chest. There didn't seem to be anything else to say. This information went quite a ways towards explaining Mrs. Malloy's behavior, but as far as Sally was concerned, it was no excuse. Neither of them spoke for a while; Sally letting Pete grieve in silence. He smiled as Sally started to softly snore; it sounded like a kitten's purr.

xxxxx

A knock on the door was followed by the head of Officer Doug Grant; guarding Pete's door was preferable to riding his motorcycle in the pouring rain. He apologized profusely for disturbing the couple cuddling in the hospital bed before telling Sally that she had an important phone call. The smile she gave Pete when she returned didn't seem to jive with her assertion that the call was about work; who smiles at a 2 am phone call from work?

Thirty minutes later, Pete was still trying to get a straight answer out of Sally when the door to his hospital room opened again. There was a moment of confusion when he didn't see anyone coming in, then he heard the sweetest sound…

"Uncle Pete! It's Uncle Pete!" Jimmy continued to shout, despite his father's attempts to shush him. That adorable voice was accompanied by the sound of running feet. Sally barely got off the chair by Pete's bed as the child jumped up on it.

"Come here Sport." Jim tried to restrain his son but Pete reached over with his good hand, pulled his Godson onto the bed and into a bear hug. Seeing Jimmy did more to brighten Pete's spirits than anything else had. The boy wrapped his arms around Pete's neck; holding on as if he was afraid his beloved Godfather would disappear on him. There were tears in Pete's eyes when he gave Jim a questioning glance. Why the late-night visit?

"After your parents packed up their things and moved to a hotel, we couldn't get Jimmy to stop crying. He was afraid that they left because you were…." Jim didn't want to voice his son's fears; to spare Pete from hearing the details.

"I've missed you kiddo." Pete spared a second to nod once at Jim before returning his attention to Jimmy. Questions about his parent's whereabouts could wait. Pete was holding on as tight to Jimmy as the child was holding onto him.

"Missed you, Uncle Pete." Jimmy's crying was tearing at Pete conscience; he couldn't help but wonder if less people would have been hurt if he had gone to Tony's parole hearing. He didn't try to wipe his own tears; preferring Jimmy to know how much he was missed. Pete gave the boy a kiss on the cheek. "Don't cry Jimmy. I promise you, I'm not going away."

Jimmy sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and his nose on the shoulder of Pete's hospital gown. There was exactly one child on earth that could get away with tainting Pete's gown with snot. When Pete accepted the offer to become Jimmy's Godfather, he knew it was an honor, but he had no idea how much he would grow to love the boy. In his experience with Godfathers, including his own, they tended to disappear after a while. He couldn't even remember the name of his Godfather. Jim and Sally quietly excused themselves.

Jimmy, still using his left arm to hold tightly to Pete, leaned his head back; giving Jimmy a better view of his Godfather. His touch was surprisingly tender as he put his right hand on Pete's shoulder. "You gots a boo-boo Uncle Pete? Do it hurt?"

Today was not the day to start lying to the child. Like his father, Jimmy had eyes the color of cornflowers. Pete would have to tread a thin line to quell the worry he saw in those eyes while still telling him the truth.

"It hurts some, but they give me medicine to make it not hurt too much." Pete drew Jimmy's attention to the IV line stuck in his right forearm. "That doesn't hurt at all, but you have a boo-boo too. How did you hurt your chin?"

"Playing tag wit you Daddy." The child seemed to hesitate to answer the question; something was bothering Jimmy. "He go'd away. Why?"

"Because the cows, the pig and the chickens need him." Pete chuckled, seeing the astonishment in Jimmy's eyes. They must not have told Jimmy that his parents lived on a farm. "My daddy is a farmer. I lived on the farm when I was your age."

"Uncle Pete, you no a farmer." The look he gave Pete made it seem like Jimmy was looking for changes in his Godfather; had he become a farmer? "You a policeman like Daddy."

"I helped my daddy take care of the farm, before I became a policeman." This information seemed to excite Jimmy, so Pete added to it by saying that it was his job to milk the cows and chase the chickens that got loose. He even promised to show Jimmy how to milk a cow once he was released. Anyone familiar with small children knows that they don't stay still long,but a few uncomfortable nudges were not enough to make Pete call for Jim to take his son.

The mood in the room took a turn downward when nurse Carly returned to his room. Sally must have alerted her to the boy's presence because she smiled at him and didn't ask questions. It was time for Pete's next dose of morphine. He tried to distract Jimmy, but the child watched her every move. Once she left, Jimmy turned back to meet Pete's eyes; waiting for an explanation.

"She gave me medicine to make it not hurt, like your mommy does when you have pain." Pete again weighed his answers; the last thing he wanted was to bring up Tony Johnson.

"Cuz the bad man hurt you, Uncle Pete?" Jimmy was gently touching Pete's shoulder. At least he wasn't asking if Tony did more than hurt his Godfather's shoulder.

"You remember the bad man? Did he hurt you too?" Pete already knew that Jimmy remembered some things and he hated asking about the incident, but he needed to know from Jimmy, not the others.

"I scared o' the bad man." Jimmy buried his head in Pete's shoulder. Instantly, Pete tightened his grip on the boy, even using his left hand.

"I'm sorry he scared you." There was so much more Pete would have told Jimmy if he was older; including how guilty he felt for what Tony did, but you don't say those things to a four-year-old. It was his job to make the fear go away. "I promise you Jimmy. He will never come near you again."

"He no gonna hurt you again?" Pete smiled; sometimes Jimmy was so much like his father. Did being a mother hen run in families?

"He went away and he's not coming back." He didn't think Jim had told the boy that Tony was dead. Even if he did, Pete wasn't about to bring up the subject of death; he didn't want Jimmy to ask how Tony died.

"Pudding!" Now that he wasn't worried about Pete anymore, Jimmy lunged at a dish of pudding that was left over from dinner. The tray table was on the left side of the bed; meaning that the boy jammed a knee into Pete's stomach while trying for the pudding. Jim must have been standing right outside the door talking to Grant because he came in when Jimmy yelled. He raced to the bed, pulling the boy off his partner.

"Are you okay?" Jimmy was bent over Jim's forearm, still trying to get at the pudding. Pete was holding his stomach, gasping for breath, but he nodded that he was okay. Jim shook his head, refraining from calling Pete a liar. "Say goodbye to Uncle Pete." He was already carrying his son towards the door when Jimmy yelled goodbye.


	26. Chapter 26

Sally rushed into the room before Pete could recover from Jimmy's unintentional kneeing of his stomach. He hadn't said anything, but he was holding his stomach and breathing heavy. For one second, he considered denying that anything was wrong; the glare Sally gave him was enough for him to consider a plan B.

"Pete? Are you okay?" She could see that he wasn't, but you have to go through the motions of asking.

"It's alright, just give me a minute." That assertion might have had more credibility if he wasn't still lying there with his hand over the large bandage covering the incision.

"I can see that." Sally had made it to his bedside; trying to get his arm away. "Who do you think you're fooling, Mister?"

"It's nothing."

"If it's nothing let me see it."

"It's not that big a deal, really." Now that Pete had his breathing under control, he tried to grin his way out of it. Maybe he could stall her until it actually did stop hurting.

"Don't try and charm your way out this. Move your arm away and let me see it." Sally didn't know whether to laugh or be angry. On the one hand, Pete was feeling good enough to demonstrate his stubbornness; on the other hand, she knew he was trying to get away with something.

"Aw Sally, I'm offended that you think I'm trying to con you." Pete knew he should give in, but he was enjoying himself.

"I know you are trying to con me." Sally had the advantage that came with years of being a nurse and dealing with cops. It was time for an end-run; she let go of his hand and pulled down hard on the sheet covering him.

"Hey, that's dirty pool." Unfortunately, for Pete, her tactic worked; he took his hand off his stomach to try and keep covered.

"I wouldn't have to resort to that if you weren't so obstinate." Sally finally got a quick look at his stomach area and she pushed the call button.

"It's part of my charm." He barely got the grin started when he saw her call for the duty-nurse. "Why'd you do that?"

Sally didn't say anything, she simply pointed at the sheet where there was a growing circle of blood.

"Are you going to tell me how you did this?" A barely awake surgical resident was scowling down at Pete. He had removed the bandage to find out why his patient was bleeding.

"I was wrestling an alligator." The older Pete got the less patience he had for being lectured by someone who looked too young to have a driver's license, much less a medical degree.

"They woke me up to take care of you, so tell me how you hurt yourself." The resident apparently didn't appreciate the joke which was enough of a reason for Pete to be difficult.

"I was sleepwalking and got run over by a gurney." Pete stole a look at Sally. She was standing behind the resident giving him conflicting signals; shaking her head in disapproval, but also trying to not laugh.

"This is not a joke, you popped seven stitches." They were spinning their wheels waiting for the nurse to return with the supplies needed to fix the stitches.

"Only seven? I was going for the record. Would you mind stepping aside so I can do some more jumping jacks?" Deep down, Pete understood that he shouldn't be flippant with the guy who was going to replace those stitches, but he was too happy about seeing Jimmy to care.

"Mr. Malloy. I don't appreciate your attitude. If you…" Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by an exaggerated sigh.

"I should have listened to my wife and stayed home." Dr. Franks had heard enough to enjoy what was going on. He sent the resident away; taking over numbing the incision site for stitching. "Your sergeant warned me about you. Will you tell me what you did?"

"A four-year-old jabbed me with his knee." He had enough respect for Franks to tell him the truth. Whether the doctor would believe him was another story. After what he saw, Dr. Franks didn't look willing to buy that story.

"He's telling the truth. Someone snuck his Godson in to see him." Sally stepped around to the far-side of the bed, taking over for the duty nurse; Pete would be more comfortable with her helping the doctor.

"I don't want to know. Leave me out of it." Working together, Sally and Franks replaced the stitches and reapplied a bandage. "I put your stitches closer together and added some along the incision, which gives you sixteen more than you destroyed. Try not to do this again."

"I'll try." Pete paused to consider something. "Hey Doc, can we keep what happened between the three of us?" He already knew that Sally wouldn't tell anyone; especially Jim.

"I'll keep it quiet this time, but pop them again and I'll personally call your sergeant." The answer had been delivered with a chuckle, but Pete believed the threat. "You have to stay still until the numbness wears off, so the nurse will be back with a sedative."

Before Pete could start to complain, Sally held her index finger up across her lips and shook her head. Pete took the hint.

xxxxx

They woke Pete up when it was time for breakfast; he would rather have kept sleeping. None of it looked appetizing so he closed his eyes and went back to sleep. When he finally woke up on his own the breakfast had not improved overtime. He was pushing the tray further away when his father came into the room.

"Son, I think they meant for you to eat that." Once he got closer and saw the skimpy collection of liquids, Thomas approved of what Pete was doing. "Is _that_ what they have been giving you to eat?"

"Yeah, but I must be getting better because they are now serving me congealed farina in addition to apple juice and jello." While Pete's relationship with his mother was going downhill, he was getting closer to his father. It was true that he and his father got along better once he left home, but something had changed since they came; Pete didn't know why.

"How do they expect you to get better on this slop? I haven't seen food this bad since I left the army." Thomas picked up his spoon and tested the consistency of the farina. "This goop sticks to the spoon better than a leech on a leg."

"Don't give them any ideas, Pop. They might be the next thing they put on the tray." Previous experiences in Central Receiving left Pete with little hope for anything half-way decent.

"I'd rather eat the leeches than this stuff. At least they might have some flavor." Thomas went around the bed to take a seat on Pete's uninjured right side.

"You could sneak a cup of coffee and a donut to your progeny, you know." Pete grinned at his father.

"I'm not falling for that grin. Who do you think you got it from?" That's when Pete realized what was different. His father was talking to him like an equal. Why now, was the question? They hadn't spent this much time together since he escaped from the farm; maybe that explained it. On Pete's rare visits home he and his father spoke often but they never quite got past the father/son barrier.

"Your mother and I are leaving tomorrow morning." He spoke quietly, with an air of regret. Strange how this shooting was what finally got them past the leftovers from a sometimes contentious adolescence.

"Because of what happened the other day? I am sorry for losing my temper and throwing her out." Pete was sorry, but he was sorry for having to do a lot of things that needed to be done.

"No, you didn't have a choice. She told me how she was attacking Sally. I do like that woman; she won't take any of your crap." Thomas stood up; he was pacing. "Your mother cannot handle the reality of your life. Being here and hearing tales of your exploits is too much for her. After a few days back home, your mother will be able to imagine away the worst parts of your job. She won't stop asking you to change your profession, but most of the time she survives by picturing you behind a desk shuffling the reports of other officers."

"You do know that I can't change Pop, even if I wanted to. Being a cop is more than my job; it's what I am inside." Pete held onto the hope that his father would understand.

"You were never meant to be a farmer." Thomas smiled, it was a rueful one, but it was a smile. "A farming suburb of Seattle is too small for you. Los Angeles is more your style." Thomas stood, looking out the window at the large city his son now called home. It looked to Pete like his father was lost in his thoughts, quieting until the older man turned back towards him. "Do you know how many people have told me that you are one of the best police officers they've ever worked with?"

"I wouldn't go that far." Pete, jokingly, deflected the praise; it made him uncomfortable, always had.

"You know, you could have at least told us about the promotions. The things Mac told me about, the commendations, the medals and what you had to do to earn them; you were right not to tell her, or me. I would have bragged about my hero son to friends and she would hear about it eventually." Thomas smiled and shook his head, seeing how uncomfortable Pete felt about the praise. "Don't deny it Pete." That was when Pete realized why his relationship with his father had changed: it was about respect.

"Okay Pop, just for you, I won't. Will Mom come to see me before she leaves?" Pete felt the need to issue a carefully worded apology to his mother. She was going to have to accept Sally being a big part of his life.

"It's better if she doesn't. Give her time to get over this. I'll tell her that you are sorry….for losing your temper." Pete chuckled catching the fact that his father didn't say the apology would also be for what he said. Thomas came close, laid his hand on Pete's shoulder and gave it a squeeze; he was saying goodbye. He smiled, speaking one last time. "Take care of yourself Pete and don't do anything dumb that makes you lose Sally. Visit once in a while, too."

"I will, I promise." Pete was surprised at how sorry he was to see his dad go.

xxxxx

Between visits from friends, time was crawling for Pete and he was ready to climb the walls. How was he going to survive weeks in this place? Worse that the boredom was the half-hour he spent with the physical therapist. She was nice enough, but moving his arm to keep his shoulder from getting stiff hurt like hell. It was going to take a lot of work to get his shoulder to meet working regulations.

Around four o'clock. his current guard at the door asked him if he wanted a visit from Judy and David. Pete agreed to see one of the two. It was hard for Pete to convince the boy to try and accept the man his mother was becoming close with. He once thought that David might become his stepson and now he was encouraging the boy to get close to another man. In order to do that, David had to really understand why Pete couldn't stay with his mother. Pete had to walk a tight-rope; he didn't want to criticize Judy, but it was her desire to change him that led to their break-up. David kept wiping his eyes as he listened. Finally, Pete explained the problems that his mother had accepting his life comparing her with Judy. Both women didn't want to live on the edge, always wondering if the next call would be bad news. Finally, Pete was able to get David to not runaway and to give Roger a chance explaining that he could give Judy a calmer, easier life.

He didn't do it for Judy; he did it for David and he felt terrible about it.


	27. Chapter 27

Dinner wasn't much better than lunch; it had vanilla pudding instead of lemon jello. The problem was that Pete was finally starting to feel like eating. Jello and thin pudding was not going to help him get well. He was eyeing what passed for broth in this place when suddenly, something smelled delicious. Pete looked up to see Jim carrying a paper bag and grinning.

"Please tell me that Jean sent me something good to eat. I'd hate to think I was delusional enough to find the smell of your aftershave appetizing." Pete watched as Jim took his time pulling things out of the paper bag.

"I brought you a book of crossword puzzles, two books to read, a few pens because I know you insist on doing the puzzles in ink…." Jim chuckled, Pete was giving him that "hurry up or I'm going to strangle you look".

"Will you stop fooling around and get to the food? I'm starving."

"I forgot how grumpy you get when you're hungry. You really need to work on your patience Partner." Jim was enjoying this way too much for Pete's taste, but he kept drawing it out. "Jimmy sent you his two favorite Matchbox cars so that you can race them when you have nothing to do."

"All I have is nothing to do." Pete enjoyed both Jimmy's gift and the love he knew came with it, but there was still that delicious aroma coming out of the bag. He decided on a plan to get whatever it was. "I'm going to tell Jean that you let me starve!"

"You wouldn't."

"I would." Jim thought that by now, he was used to Pete's moves and that they wouldn't work on him anymore; he was wrong. Those green eyes looked like they could bend steel. The glare was all the more impressive given that the man with the threatening glare was in a hospital bed.

"Fine Jean sent you some soup. She talked to your doctor and he said you can have some broth with a little rice; sorry, Partner, no chicken or veggies yet." Jim took a Tupperware container out of the bag, set it in front of Pete and gave him a spoon. Pete dove into the soup; the Central Receiving cooking staff needed to take lessons from Jean.

"This is great. Thank your wife for me." Pete watched as Jim stuck his hand back in the bag. Did Jean send something else for him to eat?

"I brought you a radio. If you're not too tired later we can listen to the Rams game." Jim took a seat by the bed enjoying the sight of his friend eating; it had been too close. "Before we do, Mac said there was something you still wanted to talk to me about." In between spoons full of that delicious gift Pete told Jim to wait; soup was more important. Finally, he pushed the container and spoon aside.

"It's about work. Since I'm not coming back for some time…." Pete kept himself from voicing the fear that he was never going back to work. "…I was wondering if you would be willing to take on one of the rookies starting next week."

"Are you nuts? I'm not ready to be a TO." Jim looked like Pete has suggested that he put on a dress and do a drag act.

"Yes, you are. You've been ready for quite a while now." To his credit, Pete managed to not laugh at Reed's expression. "I shouldn't have to tell you what you already know."

"I don't know how to be a TO. Riding with a probationer during their last few months is hard enough, but a pure rookie? No."

"You know all you need to be a TO. Just do what I did when we started riding together." Since he and Mac had discussed the idea of putting a rookie with Jim, Pete had been remembering those first few weeks. He had been tough on Jim, just like Val Moore had been to Pete; except Val hadn't resisted the friendship. Some days, Pete tried to keep a little distance between him and Jim, unwilling to risk getting close to another partner who might die. There were other times he couldn't help himself; Reed had wormed his way past all of Pete's defenses.

"You want me to scare him senseless?" Jim sputtered, spitting out some of the soda he was drinking, causing Pete to laugh.

"That's part of it. Your rookie will need to learn basic survival skills quickly. Nothing sinks in more than a dressing down when they make a potentially deadly mistake. Besides, sometimes it's fun to scare them." Laughter confirmed Jim's reaction; Pete had enjoyed some of those lectures.

"You rat! That's the last food I bring you." It was an idle threat which failed to fool the older man. Jim, who had taken a seat on the side of the bed, stood up, shifting restlessly as he did. "I'm serious Pete. I can't do what you did. Don't ask me to."

"Why? Is it really because you don't feel ready or because you think this will end our partnership?" Sometimes Jim was easier to read than a stop sign. "I'm not coming back to patrol for months…if at all." One of them had to broach the subject and Jim didn't seem willing to.

"Don't talk like that!" Over the years of their partnership, they had argued, but never before had Jim yelled at him like he did just then. He was furious at Pete for even considering that possibility; he walked towards the window, needing some distance.

"I…._we_ need to face that very real possibility. Living on a disability pension might be in my future." Pete's hand was shaking as he ran it through his hair in a gesture of frustration. He didn't like the idea any better than Jim did.

"Not now! Not this time!" Jim wanted to knock some sense into his friend, but he had never hit Pete before and now was definitely not the time to start. With no other choice Jim began pounding on the stone wall.

"Why not now? Damnit Jim, stop hitting the wall. I won't help me and it's hurting you." Pete wanted to slam a fist into the bricks too; he understood Jim's frustration and his loyalty. Jim spun around to face his partner; his face was red with anger.

"Because God isn't that cruel!"

The words hung in the stale air between them; Pete didn't know how to respond to Jim's assertion. The truth was that after his last young partner had died Pete began to doubt all those religious beliefs his mother and a whole slew of nuns had drilled into his head. Baxter's death had helped no one; it devastated his wife, left his daughter fatherless and almost destroyed his partner. Pete knew a man of faith when he rode with one and Jim was; he couldn't tell his partner that he might be wrong.

"God gives you a choice and you live with the consequences of your decision. Do you think that I wouldn't trade my job for your life and Jimmy's?" Pete believed that, but a decision rarely involves one person. Tony decided on revenge; he paid the price but the effects of his choice still rippled in the lives of others. Jim wanted to argue that it wasn't fair, but held back instead of interrupting his friend.

"I probably meant to die when I ran at Tony. I don't remember, but when it came down to it, I made the choice to live." Pete managed to find a brief smile. "We can discuss the wisdom of that choice later." Despite having once told Ed this, it was still hard to talk to about, even to Jim. "When the time comes, God presents you with the options; go back in the same condition you left or die, but it doesn't come with any guarantees." He paused, motioning for Jim to take the chair next to the bed. Reed didn't miss the slight trembling of Pete's hand. "It's hard to describe, I think it happens when your heart stops. I knew how bad I was hurt; what it could mean for the rest of my life. Still, I came back."

"Because you didn't trust me to take care of those you leave behind?" Jim had spent over a week wondering about that dream; it was time to ask.

"What do you mean by that?" It wasn't like Pete didn't recognize the phrase. He had made that promise to Tom Porter; had extracted it from Mac. While Pete was still in the hospital recovering from the accident in Griffith Park, the sergeant had spoken to him about Jim's reaction to his disappearance. Mac forced Pete to acknowledge how important he had become to the Reeds.

"Isn't that what you asked me to do?" Jim paused, watching Pete to see what, if any, reaction he had to the question. How far should he go; was he really going to ask Pete if he visited him in the hallway? Would Pete think he lost his mind?

"When did I ask you to take care of my parents?" Pete was wracking his brain, trying to remember if he ever expressed concerns about what would happen to his parents if he died. They were the only ones who depended on him financially.

"I got the impression that you meant more than just your parents; Sally perhaps?" Had he dreamed it or did Pete forget that conversation? It was also possible that Pete didn't want to admit to knowing what Jim was talking about. "You don't remember…um….haunting me?" There, he said it.

"_Haunting you_?" Pete couldn't keep back the laughter, not even when he saw Jim turning bright red. "I'd ask you if you'd been drinking, but I know you haven't."

"Never mind, I was kidding." Jim turned his back to his best friend and began to gather his things; preparing to leave. Pete watched him for a moment, before speaking.

"No you aren't." Jim was midway through putting his jacket when Pete spoke; he was actually trembling. "Tell me about it. Please Jim. I'm sorry I laughed."

After deciding that Pete was sincere, Jim sat back down and told him the bare bones of the incident: a voice in an empty hall way, being flippant about whether he was dead yet, the joke about the operating room and the touch of a hand on his shoulder. Pete listened to the details without comment. Jim ended with the fact that Dr. Franks confirmed that Pete had gone into cardiac arrest during his second operation.

"Were you clicking your pen and did I make ghost sounds?" Pete's brow was furrowed and he was lightly scratching the side of his neck.

"So it wasn't a dream! You remember it!" The biggest grin appeared on Jim's face. He looked like Jimmy when you put a dish of ice cream in front of him.

"Did you tell Jean or Sally about this…dream?"

"Both. Mac heard too." Once Pete was back in the ICU, and while his parents went to get coffee, Jim told them what had happened. He wanted them to tell him if it was real or not. "Do you remember talking to me?"

"I honestly don't know. There are images in my mind, parts of a conversation, but I don't know if I remember doing it or if someone told me about it." Pete felt horrible that he couldn't confirm what Jim surely wanted to have happened. "It does sound like me though. Who else would give you such a hard time?" That comment, they both laughed at.

"Only you would. Except, then you got serious, telling me I saved more than your career the first night we rode together; that I saved you." Jim sighed, leaning back in the bright yellow plastic chair. "Maybe it was wishful thinking."

"I never told anyone that, not even Mac." It was almost as if Pete was speaking to himself; his voice taking on a deeper quality. Over the years, he had come to the decision that Jim did save him, but it wasn't his style to share his deepest feelings. Where would he be if he had quit the job he loved? If he was going to tell anyone it would be Mac, who along with Val Moore, had purposely thrown Jim Reed at him in a last ditch effort to stop Pete from quitting.

"You told me."

"Yeah, but I thought I was dying, so it doesn't count." Once again, Pete fell back into his habit of making a joke when things got too emotional. When Jim looked like he was going to call Pete on it, the older man beat him to it. "I just explained the moment between life and death to you; do you expect me to know the truth about what happened in the hall too?"

"I guess it's enough that I believe that it happened. From the time Jean found me asleep in that hall, I've known that it was real." Once Jim made a decision, it was extremely difficult to change his mind. The thing was, Pete really wanted to know too.

"If you remember what time I spoke to you, ask Dr. Franks what time I went into cardiac arrest. That might confirm part of it." That was the only solution Pete could come up with. If the times match, maybe he did float around without a body. The possibility was intriguing, but Pete was too tired for the metaphysical. "Hasn't the game started by now?"

Jim dropped the dream question in favor of listening to the football game. The two friends spoke only during the commercial breaks; other than brief comments about the game. As the first quarter was ending, a new nurse came in to change the IV solution and administer a dose of morphine to Pete. Ten minutes later he was fast asleep. Jim leaned back in the chair, put his feet on the edge of the bed and continued to listen to the game. He would be there when Pete woke up; in case his partner needed anything.

**A/N. I do not own the characters in the story nor did I have any connection with people involved in its production. I am just a fan. Thanks to Martin Milner, Kent McCord, William Boyett and others for bringing these characters to life.**


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